


The Folly of Mercy

by sunnyautumnmorning



Series: Mercer's Mercy [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyautumnmorning/pseuds/sunnyautumnmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing story of Mercy Frey, daughter of Mercer Frey.</p><p>Brynjolf is being visited by the ghost of a former Guild Master who is trying to tell him something.<br/>He begins to believe that Mercy may be in danger, but from who?<br/>Can he and Mercy discover what is going on and will they manage to do it without enraging those in the shadows?<br/>Will they also be able to avoid Maven Black-Briar and her thirst for revenge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim belongs to Bethesda, not to me.  
> Inspiration for the title came from Temeraire by Naomi Novik; which in her own right, is a master of writing beautiful tales that are just so gorgeous.  
> Assistance in editing was courtesy of RainySpringMorning who is possibly and arguably the best tea maker and hand holder a friend could ask for.  
> And then to you my readers, thanks for being here and putting up with my obsession for Mercer Frey.

Brynjolf sat upright, his chest heaving as he desperately struggled for air. His hand went to his sweat-soaked aching brow as he looked around the Cistern, seeing if his shout had awoken the others. Mercifully he had not; everyone was still asleep in their bed, which at this point, was preferable. He did not want to have to explain what he had been shouting about. He did not think he could, not when he did not understand it himself.  
He sat for a moment in the dim light of the Cistern trying to gather his thoughts still blurred by the amount of alcohol he had consumed the previous evening.

He had fallen asleep on the narrow bed too tired to go any further; truth be told, he had drank more than his fair share of mead in the Ragged Flagon. Moreover the hour had been late, too late to make it back to Riftweald Manor. He was glad he then had fallen asleep here and had not awakened Mercy. She would have persisted until he had told her what the dream was about. She was not that easy to throw off the scent of intrigue once she had a whiff of it.

He sat for a moment, mulling over what he could remember about the dream, bits and pieces came to him; incoherent drabble that left him confused, but the one small piece that stood out was those eyes, Mercy’s eyes; they haunted him as he sat with his head cradled in his hands before he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  
He stretched and groaned, shaking out the ache that had settled into his body. He resolved himself to the fact that maybe he was becoming too old to carry on the way he was. But what else could a thief do, but be a thief.

He returned his thoughts to the dream. A chill ran down his spine. What could it mean? Mercy was not the Dragonborn; he knew that for at that very moment he was supposed to be sitting in High Hrothgar with the Greybeards, studying The Way of the Voice. He had passed through Ivarstead a few weeks ago and Brynjolf’s contacts always kept him well-informed about anything that happened in the area.

Brynjolf stood upright; he rolled and flexed his aching muscles, cracking his neck as he walked towards to the Guild Master’s desk. Leaning against the desk, he thought of the dream as little tads of it persisted in adhering to his consciousness.

Had she shouted in the dream too? Brynjolf blew his breath out between pursed lips. His head ached and he belched out loud concluding that the over consumption of mead had played a part in his dream. But he could not shake the foreboding feeling that now crept up his back to sit on his shoulder, wrapping itself around him tightly and whispering in his ear in a voice that sounded too much like that of Mercer Frey’s.

~*~

Winds shrieked and howled loudly; they tugged at her thin cotton night dress causing her to shiver and threatened to lift her from her feet. She wrapped her arms around her small frame in an attempt to ward off the bitter cold.She kept walking, placing one small foot in front of the other, hoping that she would make it to where ever she was destined for.

Snow swirled and danced before her eyes, landing on her eyelashes and kissing her rosy cheeks before they melted. She walked on through the deeply crusted snow and came to stand in a clearing where a waterfall fell from the above rock face to her left and formed a stream that meandered along before her passing by two stone pillars; further ahead of her stood a solitary iron door flanked by two braziers.  
She studied the place that she had come to and felt that it was familiar. Something had drawn her here. It whispered to her in her mind, calling her name.

The great iron door opened and she found herself then standing in darkness. She could not see anything and she had no torch. Around her she could hear faint whispers and suddenly a faceless person glowing in blue appeared before her. She stepped back in fright then opened her mouth and screamed as their cold hand gripped her arm and shouted her name.

Mercy sat bolt upright in her bed. Someone had called her name. Was it Brynjolf calling out? She stole from her bed to the door and paused, ears straining for the slightest of sound. Her heart hammered in her chest as she moved out of the room to his door and pushed it open to find the bed not slept in and the room empty. Maybe he was working downstairs. She moved to the landing and moved slowly down the stairs.

Brynjolf had his own desk by the front door for any work he had to do, but he was not seated at it.

Mercy grew puzzled she was sure it had to have been Brynjolf that had called her. No one else was in the manor.Or was there?

Cautiously she turned and moved towards the closed door to the room she had not been stepped foot in in ages, not since she was four and that had been after a bad day, a very bad day.

Hand on door jam, she leaned against it, her heart jumping a little, then pushed it open. It was her father’s room, his office. It sat exactly as how it had been how when he and her mother had last stood in here. Mercy never touched a thing and would not allow Brynjolf to do either. Mercy moved on silent footfalls to his desk and gracefully sat in his chair.

It was not an ornate desk or chair but it had been his. Her hand lovingly stroked the desk top. There was a little carving, perhaps whittled by him when he was drifting in thought, on one corner of the desk; it was the initial M. M for Mercer, M for Mercy. Her finger traced the letter over and over.

She looked to the wall where her mother’s Dwarven bow had been hung, along with her daggers. Her head swiveled in the direction of the opposing wall where her father’s sword, Chillrend and his Dwarven sword of Devouring hung. Brynjolf had them hung here in honor of Gynni and Mercer.

Hot tears splashed down onto the desk, their appearance taking her by surprise.

She had no memory to recall of the man that had a hand in her creation, nor her mother for that fact. No painting to gaze upon, no sketch as to what they looked like. All she had to go on was the descriptions that were casually offered to her by Brynjolf, the Guild, and a few members of Riften that did not particularly share a fondness for Mercer Frey.

Her mind turned to the dream that had awoken her and Mercy sat thinking about what it had meant; it left her feeling confused and unsettled for some reason. The cold hand that had gripped her arm scared her. She hoped that she would never see such a place as she had visited in her dream for if she did she would turn tail and run in the opposing direction.  
Mercy shivered at the thought of it as her eyelids fluttered and drooped.  
She pulled her knees up under her chin and sat there thinking about it and the parents that she would never know until Brynjolf found her there asleep with her head on Mercer’s desk.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mercy awoke, late into the next morning, to find Brynjolf, mouth open and snoring, half draped across the bottom of her bed, his legs and his bootless feet hanging off the side. He had not even taken the time to change out of his armor. She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly hoping he would wake up, her legs felt numb under his weight. She gently nudged him several times then resorted to poking him until he awoke, bleary red rimmed eyed.

“Mornin’, did you have a rough night?” She inquired knowing full well what his answer would be.

He rubbed his eyes, blinking as he thought of where he was and then standing to stretch and yawning he peeked at her, his face flushing slightly as he bent to gather up his boots. He sat back down on the edge of her bed and peered into her face.

“I found you last night at Mercer’s desk, sound asleep. I carried you up here and I guess I fell asleep. Did you have a fitful night, lass? Were you sleepwalking again?”

Mercy couldn’t remember going downstairs or neither falling asleep at Mercer’s desk, nor if she had any dreams. Her mind was completely void of any details of what had happened during the night.

“I don’t know.”

Brynjolf was glad that he had slept without the dreams this time, he was bone tired.

Brynjolf nodded.

“Well I have a Guild to run and you have some chores to get to after breakfast. I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes then lass.”

Mercy nodded her head and rose to dress for the oncoming day, taking no further thought about any of the previous night’s happenings.

 

~*~

 

Mercy ran through the Grand Plaza, slipping between the shoppers, waving hello to those that she knew and counted as her friends.  
Ahead of her she spied the dragon lady and quickly changed her direction to avoid a possible confrontation even though she knew that had not happened in some time; but still it did not hurt to err on the side of caution.

Marise smiled at Mercy and handed her an apple as she stopped to chat with her for a moment.  
Marise informed her of a shipment of apples that Mercy was particularly fond of coming in a few days and that she would save some for Mercy.  
Mercy thanked her than continued on noting where the dragon lady was at all times.

She then ducked into the Bee and Barb to visit with Marcurio who would no doubt regal her with his latest tales of his being a pack mule for some adventurer he had just met or one of long ago. Mercy, out of politeness and a fondness for the man, sat and listen to him whine and then herself nod and gush in excitement that one day she would be an adventurer too, looking for treasures.  
Marcurio nodded, smiling at the young woman and offered his services if she ever needed them. She thanked him politely and handed him the apple.

He thanked her for the apple and turned to the gentleman approaching and asked if he wanted to hire him.  
As Mercy bid Marcurio a fond farewell she slipped out the doors to step into the path of Ingun; Maven Black-Briar’s daughter.  
Mercy could not understand the complete dissimilarity between the two but nevertheless she was glad of it. Ingun was friendly, kind and sweet where as her mother well, her mother was Maven. Apologizing to Ingun, she inquired as to how her latest round of experiments was going and Ingun was delighted in the fact that someone took interest in what she did.

Mercy offered to hunt for any ingredients that she needed and Ingun gladly accepted indicating that when Mercy did go out hunting that she would accompany her.  
Mercy excused herself, then she continued on her way round the Grand Plaza avoiding Maven who was parading around as if she owned the plaza and no one else should dare be present when she was in it.  
Mercy watched Maven from her concealed vantage point as she recalled the first time she met the woman who would become known to her forever as the dragon lady; the one had who told her of her father’s disposition.

 

~*~

 

_Mercy’s first encounter with Maven Black-Briar, at the tender age of four, marked the beginning of her being terrified of her. A fear that would almost cripple her and still to this day had lasting effects._

_Mercy had been playing peek-a-boo with some of the merchants in the market, giggling and laughing in the plaza during the afternoon sun. Weaving through the stalls and patrons not really bothering anyone, she called out to them once they feigned they could not find her._

_Brynjolf had been peddling his wares and scoping out a few new travelers in Riften. He waved to her as she passed by him again unaware of what was about to happen. She was just a child having fun; acting as a child._

_Mercy had recalled a dark shadow out of the corner of her eye as she had rounded Madesi’s stall and then it had been too late to stop. She ran smack into something that had not yielded to her, something that expressed its discord at being touched; something that become the thing of nightmares._

_Mercy lifted her small head up, smiling and looked into the face of Maven Black-Briar as she stood, arms now folded over her chest, a look that could have frozen Lake Honrich in the blink of an eye as she looked down at Mercy which had been promptly followed by Maven’s notorious drawling voice; this time edged with a little more contempt, with the one eye brow raised, demanding an answer from her._

_“And what do you want?” Her eyes had narrowed as she inspected her robes for any smudges of dirt from the obvious street urchin probably begging or stealing from her. She scrubbed at spots of imaginary dirt while from her throat she emitted a disgusted sound._

_Mercy had backed away from Maven and had run to hide behind Brynjolf’s legs. Her chest heaving as she tried not to cry. She tugged on Brynjolf’s trousers, rousing him from the customer he was speaking to. Peeking around his legs and she had pointed at Maven._

_“Brynjolf, look at the dragon lady.”_

_She uttered quietly as to not provoke the dragon lady anymore. It had been an innocent enough comment from the child, and rightly so, but it further infuriated Maven who demanded the thing apologize immediately and pay for the damages to her apparently new robe that the urchin had soiled._

_“This…thing belongs to you? Why on earth would a man such as you want to raise a child? Wait a moment, is this, his child?”_

_Brynjolf had laughed then, scooping Mercy up into the safety of his arms and telling her the lady she had run into was Maven Black-Briar and not a dragon. He had asked to her apologize for bumping into her and then later had cautioned her to be more careful in the market, especially of Maven._

_He had offered to pay for any damages but before he could hand over some coin, Maven strode away in anger._

_Mercy had inquired again if this Maven was a dragon and Brynjolf assured her that she was not, but that she did have the temperament of one, thus he cautioned her to give her a wide berth if she ever saw her again._

_Brynjolf felt the icy fingers of trouble creeping up his spine and he again cautioned Mercy to be careful._

_He then had given her some coin and told her to go see Keerava and see if she had any sweet rolls and soon the incident was forgotten._

_Later that night, once Mercy was bathed and in a soft clean nightdress, she drifted off into a restless sleep. She had a nightmare, of the dragon lady, with the pale narrow eyes and in that horrible dream Maven breathed fire._

 

_~*~_

 

_Mercy had learned the truth about her father shortly after her seventh birthday-thanks to Maven Black-Briar, again. This time the incident was initiated by Maven who had been in a particularly foul mood. Anyone that had come in contact with her that afternoon had felt her wrath, and one small child was no exception._

_The encounter, with the malevolent woman, was on a sunny afternoon as Mercy was hurrying to the orphanage for a luncheon, hosted by Constance Michel, the new caretaker of Honorhall Orphanage._

_Several witnesses would later attest to this; that Maven had been the one that stepped in front of Mercy sending her and her basket of baked goodies for the children at the orphanage, scattering and rolling away to splash down into the canal below. Mercy herself had been knocked to the ground and skinned her knee.  
She had been more concerned for the basket of her treats than that of the injury she had received. She had baked the goodies with the assistance of Vekel who had shown that he had an aptitude for the culinary arts, or just making cupcakes and little tarts similar to those his mother had made when he had been a young lad. _

_As Mercy, with tears streaming down her face, had sat on her knees staring down into the canal as her gifts sank to the bottom of the canal. Her basket floated, bobbing on the surface then it too sank beneath the murky water. She then looked up into Maven’s cold stony face as Maven bent down to the child and pointed directly at her chest, jabbing her with one pointy gnarled finger._

_“Watch what you are doing!”_

_On closer inspection and recognition of who the child was crumpled at her feet, she then launched into some derogatory remarks about the man that was raising her and his inability in guiding this urchin to becoming a worthwhile member of society. It was then, with the sun shining over Mercy’s back, illuminating Maven’s russet robe and making it look as if it had been on fire that she had bent closer to the child and she had spoken hardheartedly of Mercy’s father._

_“Mercer Frey was a ghastly little man, a despicable man that was filthy and rude. His death was well deserved; it is only a shame it took so long in coming. Ha! The heinous acts he did-killing all those people, stealing from the Guild, from me; figures he would produce a child of kind. He was nothing but a thief, could not even do anything else with his life. He squandered what he had on women and gambling, always looking for the next best thing. I am surprised that your mother took up with him let alone kept you. Then again I suspect she was just like him. Who would want the seed child of a man like that? It is a good thing she died in childbirth than to have suffered the shame of being known as the woman who had the spawn of Mercer Frey!”_

_Her eyes narrowed sharper at that point if they ever could have and her voice had chilled Mercy to the bone. Her stance began to look taller to the small child from her point of view._

_Mercy knelt there, her bottom lip quivering with tears burning behind her eyes; blinking up at the dragon lady and waited for the dragon’s lady wings and maybe a tail to appear and for her fire breath to consume her._

_“If ever our paths should have the misfortune to cross again, I will turn you over to the town guards and you will never see the light of day again, do you understand me? I will have you thrown in jail, in a dark dingy horrible little cell.” She paused for a moment, folding one arm across her abdomen and nestling her elbow into other hand laying her folded hand with one finger against her cheek, tapping at it as she thought. “Come to think of it I will have that Brynjolf thrown in a cell to and then you can pity each other. Now be gone, before I make good on my word.”_

_Mercy remembered picking herself up then running, tears blinding her, to the small garden by the statue of Talos, a favourite spot she went to.  
She had sunk to the ground beside the statue; throwing her arms around herself, not able to erase the crushing pain inside of her. Her father had killed people? No it was too horrible the things that woman had said about her father; then the thought of her mother dying in child birth? Mercy had thought she must be a bad child. _

_Mercy had sat there by the statue for some time, her heart shattering sobs attracting the attention of Niruin coming along the path by the little graveyard returning from a job._

_He had asked her what had happened and when she could not answer he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the cistern where the others gathered around and had listened to her as she had hitched, sniffled and sobbed through the story about the dragon lady._

_Sapphire swore under her breath and clutched her dagger. She began striding towards the ladder, ready to strike Maven from Riftens list of citizens, but Brynjolf had intervened. He laid a hand on her arm and spoke quietly into her ear then he turned back to look at Mercy._

_His ire had risen to the surface along with a pain that had gripped his heart as he had listened to her sobs. He went to her and knelt before her, kissing the top of her head. He told her not to worry that he would not let any harm come to her. That Maven would not throw her in jail, or himself._

_She had thrown herself into his arms; head buried in his shoulder and cried until she finally had fallen asleep there, cradled safely within the coppery red headed man’s grasp as he had rocked her humming a lullaby while he contemplated what he was going to do to Maven._

 

_~*~_

 

_He had waited until Mercy had gone with Sapphire and Vex to Windhelm for some supplies when he decided to pay Maven a little visit. He had gone to her manor and approached with a calm attitude and the intention of setting things right for the sake of Mercy. When Maven had opened the door he had entered with a grim look on his face._

_A few minutes later, he appeared from within, whistling Ragnar the Red and there had been a slight spring in his step as returned to the Cistern._

_Rumor was he had threatened her with something of great importance to her and then produced some nasty evidence he had found against her in Mercer’s desk. He had cautioned her to never speak to the child again or so even go near her lest the evidence come to light and he was sure that she did not want that to happen. It had been a very risky move, but he had meant every word he had said but it had not been as dangerous as Maven threatening the poor wee child that he so loved as his own. She had not realized that there were consequences and Brynjolf would be the one to exact the price._

_Brynjolf had risked his own safety to protect Mercy. He knew how dangerous Maven was but he did not care. He would have done so against anyone who dared to harm her._

_What had transpired between them was never spoken of between Mercy and Brynjolf ever and the woman with her icy stone stare never spoke to Mercy again._

Now as Mercy watched her, waiting for Maven to leave the Grand Plaza before continuing her shopping and visiting she felt nothing but pity for the hardened woman.  
It was probably through no fault of her own that she was the way she was. Brynjolf had always told Mercy that you must accept responsibility for your actions and often or not that they shaped you into the kind of person you became.  
Mercy looked at the older woman and wondered how many secrets she had and how many skeletons were in her closet for the way she acted Mercy knew that she was a dangerous woman.  
She was colder than the icy biting winds that blew in off The Sea of Ghosts, but to Mercy she would always be known as the dragon lady no matter what.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Brynjolf sat in the Ragged Flagon, nursing an ale in his hand and one eye on Vex.  
He wondered if he dare approach the tall, blonde haired Imperial and speak to her. He needed to confide in someone, with regards to his problem, and she, he thought, might be just as good a candidate, as anyone else, in the Guild that he could speak to on such matters.  
Standing, he wandered over to her table and cleared his throat, in an attempt to get her attention from the jewels she was inspecting.

She looked up at him with her cold grey eyes and snorted. Her mood was that of not being happy, either with him interrupting or with the treasure she held in her hand, from one of the newer members of the Guilds pitiful attempts at thieving. Obviously the jewels were of inferior quality and would not fetch much from Tonilia.

“Well what do you want?” Vex snapped.

Vex did not care to be bothered when she was working, nor did she care what position Brynjolf thought he might or might not be in, now that Mercer Frey was gone and the Guild was without a Guild Master. It was not a forgone conclusion that Brynjolf was now that man. It might have been obvious to all that Brynjolf would slide into that position considering he was second-in-command, but not to Vex. She was grateful that it had not been her, that everyone had looked to lead, as she rather a laid back approach. As for good ol’ Delvin he was more suited to doing the books and keeping track of the jobs coming and going out of the Guild.  
As for Mercy she was still too young to take over the reins of the now prospering Guild and Vex had a feeling that she was not so interested in the position.

Brynjolf slide into the chair opposite Vex.

“I need to speak to you on something, if you have a moment.”

Vex nodded her head and returned to inspecting the jewels.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Brynjolf rubbed a hand through his hair and Vex looked up to catch the look on his face. She knew that something had been bothering him the last few weeks. He looked exhausted and ragged around the edges, not his usual composed self. He had snapped himself a few times when it had not been called for. Everyone had felt the change in the man that was sitting across from her now. She had not seen him this weary since they had gone on the merry chase after Gynni and Mercer.  
She wondered if Mercy was giving him a hard time. The young girl was growing up fast and approaching womanhood and with that Vex was sure Brynjolf would have his hands full. He had done a good job raising her thus far, but sometimes his methods were questionable. He was not exactly cut out for being a father, but he did his best with some help from Sapphire and herself.

He had stated on more than one occasion that he did not want Mercy becoming a thief, that it was no life for her.

Vex had found that amusing and ironic, considering the profession that Brynjolf followed, not to mention where Mercy was being raised.

No doubt through her veins ran the same blood that had run through Mercer Frey’s and that meant that eventually Mercy would follow in her father’s footsteps regardless of what Brynjolf had to say. The girl did indeed show an incline to lock picking from what she had shown Vex in their secretive moments in the training room away from Brynjolf’s prying eyes. Mercy had begged and pleaded with the Imperial to show her how to do it. She had finally given in and found that Mercy was a very willing student and was quick to learn. Vex knew that Delvin had been counseling her in sneak skills and she was sure she had seen Niruin and Vipir offering tips to her as well.

Maybe Brynjolf had caught all of this and had decided it was time to put an end to it.That would be like asking any of the other members of the Guild to stop what they did for a living. It was inevitable that Mercy too would become like those around her.  
Vex wondered, was it really that bad of a life for the girl? It had not been for her so far.

“What has she done this time?” Vex inquired softly.

Brynjolf raised one eyebrow.

“Mercy? She hasn’t done anything, yet that I am aware of. No it is not that. I, I have been having these…these strange dreams.”

Vex laughed.

“Brynjolf, I think you might be talking to the wrong person about those kinds of dreams. You should perhaps find someone who can, uh, assist with them.”

Brynjolf stared at Vex then a slight flush crossed his cheeks. She had misunderstood his statement.

“Vex, I am being serious. The dreams are nightmares, nightmares about Mercy and Mercer. They have been haunting me for weeks now and I don’t know what to do.”

Vex’s brows came together as she leaned back against the chair, dropping the jewels and giving her full attention as she looked seriously at Brynjolf.

“Tell me about them.”

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf concluded his story regarding the nightmares and sat back on his chair. He laughed nervously eyeing Vex. He had finished his ale and rose to collect two more-one for himself and the other for Vex.

She sat leaning back on her chair, her hand clutching the bottle of ale as he handed it to her and looked pensive. Her grey eyes were hooded, not giving Brynjolf any clue as to what she was thinking.  
He would have preferred, if she had spoken, then to have sat there looking at him like that. It made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. Perhaps he had choose unwisely, telling her what the problem was. He hated feeling exposed as he did now waiting for her to respond.

“Has Mercy had any strange nightmares?” She finally asked.

Brynjolf blew his breath out between his lips, relief washing over him.

“She has been sleep walking a great deal more. She has no recollection of that or of any dreams if she is having any.”

Vex sucked on the bottle of ale then swallowed wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You know Bryn; you could go to the College of Winterhold and talk to the Arch Mage there. He might have an insight on what perhaps these dreams mean. I am no expert, but from the sounds of it, I think Mercer is trying to warn you that Mercy might be in danger. From who or what I have no idea.”

Brynjolf finished his ale then set the bottle down on the table. He picked at the table, thinking about the strange dreams and how Mercer kept speaking to him.

He would leave first thing tomorrow for Winterhold and hopefully find some answers.

If Mercy was in danger he had better find out from what and soon, because the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach was growing larger by the day.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Mercy reached out her hand and touched the tall dark stone, feeling the grooves that had been either carved by time or by hand, she was not sure of which.  
She gazed at the symbol near the top that had begun to fade. She could not make out what it was, the damage to it was too much for her to decipher. Her curiosity had taken hold of her and she was determined to find out what this stone meant. She had discovered a few days ago, when she had left Riften, for one of her nightly excursions when Brynjolf was busy with Guild business.

He had cautioned her, several times, not to be outside of Riften's safety at night without an escort. He had warned her several times, explaining that bandits liked caves and young women and she could find herself in more trouble than she could possibly handle.

Mercy huffed; she did not need someone looking after her. Brynjolf was just being Brynjolf; which meant he was being over protective of her. But perhaps he had been right, this time.  
This stone was unusual and the feeling that crawled along her neck, made her wish that she had taken Marcurio up on his offer of following if she ever went exploring. But then again if Brynjolf found out she was traipsing about in caves with Marcurio he would put a stop to it. He was not particularly fond of Marcurio.

Mercy scoffed, she could handle anything or anyone that interfered with her. Her hand strayed to the dagger that rested at her hip, it brought some comfort to her.

She sighed then walked up a little path that could barely seen from roadway until she came to a rock formation on the mountainside where the path ended. She wondered where the path had led to, was there a secret entrance long ago that had been closed up? And if so, why had it been closed? Who had used it?

Curiosity again took root and Mercy, as she stood staring at the rocks before her, began tracing the little crevices and indentations.  
She pressed each little indentation and tugged on rocks, that stuck out, hoping that a door would suddenly appear before her. She blew her breath out between her lips and sighed again when nothing of the sort happened. She had hoped that there had been a cave here and that she might explore it.

Resolving herself to the fact that nothing exciting, was happening tonight, she turned on her heel and moved back down the path towards the dark stone.  
Mercy was just past the stone when she heard a loud crack, followed by a scraping sound coming from behind her.

Mercy ran in the direction of the sound and arrived to see a section of the rock wall she had been prodding, sliding upwards to reveal a wooden door further within.

The door beckoned to her and she could not resist the temptation. Her heart pounding in her throat, she made the decision to explore. Stepping forwards, she pushed on the door and found it opened under the slight pressure she applied.  
Mercy glanced over her shoulder and swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. _Why not have a look; what harm could come from that?_

 

~*~

 

The wind rushed through the tunnel behind, clearing her nostrils of the stench of stale air. Blackness hung like a curtain before her, obscuring her view.  
Mercy rummaged through her knapsack and found a candle and a piece of flint in the bottom. Striking the dagger against the flint, she lit the candle. Mercy lifted her arm and cast the light about, watching the shadows move along the walls around her. The candle snuffed out and she cursed under her breath wondering why she had not brought a lantern. She re-lit the candle then held one hand in front of it, guarding the flame from any draft.

Mercy stepped forward cautiously and noted the twisting path before her. It was steep and narrow, leading off into the darkness to who knew what.  
Mercy nodded to herself and set off one step at a time, the hair on her arms standing straight up. Ahead of her she could hear the faint sound of water and when she stepped from the passageway, she found herself to be in a cavern, where she was greeted with the sight of a waterfall to her right.  
To her left was a brazier and she took the time to find and collect some wood and then set it in the brazier then light it. As the light from the brazier glowed filling the chamber, she could see a small stream crossing the floor and beyond that a higher section to the chamber that once had been accessible by a bridge.

Mercy picked her away over rocks on the floor of the chamber and over the rushing water of the small stream to where the bridge had spanned; its wooden construction now lying in shambles.

Mercy noted that there were, what appeared to be, hand holds in the rock and she easily clambered up the rocks.  
At the top, she found two braziers at the edge of the ledge she had just traversed and she paused to fill them with some of the broken pieces of the bridge and then bent to light them. The braziers spluttered to life, filling the side of the chamber she stood in now, with warm inviting light. Once she was secure in their flame, she added a few more pieces of wood to keep the fire going while she investigated.

Mercy viewed the chamber, keeping in mind what Brynjolf had said about bandits. It appeared that no one had been here in ages from the extent of cobwebs and dust covering everything.

Old broken tables, chairs and beds lay scattered about the area she stood in. Chunks of stone that had fallen from the ceiling had crushed some wardrobes in a corner. A brazier lay on its side, its long forgotten contents now stone cold.

To her left, was another opening and she decided to follow through the passageway, avoiding the chunks of rocks from a few pillars that had collapsed.

Rooms lead off to her left and right and as she passed by them she explored each finding more shambles of what had once been she figured to be quarters for whoever had lived here. Perhaps it had been the base of some guild that she did not know of.  
Maybe the Thieves Guild had used this and had left because of the damage. She would inquire that possibility to Delvin, knowing he knew a great deal of the history of the Guild.

Mercy exited the last of the rooms and continued on, coming to a dais, where three crumbling blocks stood like sentinels waiting for orders. She approached them cautiously and skirted around them.

On the one directly facing her, she could see the faint image of what appeared to be a circle. It was a strange symbol. Mercy could not recall seeing it denoted for any factions in or around Skyrim. Perhaps it was from an ancient group no longer active.

Striding towards it, she touched it, her hands caressing it and she thought she felt a hum under her fingertips. Her senses grew heightened as the hum traveled up her arm. It stopped when she heard a scraping sound coming from further ahead and she peered around the corner into the darkness listening for whatever caused it.

Mercy took hold of her dagger, ready for whatever or whoever might be in the cave with her.

“Is someone there?”

Silence greeted her ears, as she slid from where she was standing, to face the darkness.  
Lifting her candle, she spotted a few sconces and lit them; the light from them flooding the room she stood in. Ahead of her, she could see a short flight of stairs leading to a large black maw. Not being fearful at all, she moved ahead then discovered the reason for the sound. Her foot bumped into the still protruding pole in the ground from a gate that had opened.

She wondered if she had triggered a mechanism when she had touched the block on the dais.

Mercy moved ahead, further into the passageway and behind lay an immense chamber with three walkways leading to three separate pedestals, suspended in midair it seemed.  
Braziers were still burning or had they lit when she had approached the chamber, she was not sure.  
In the ground at her feet was a large symbol laid into the floor. It was a bird, of which kind she was not sure, with its wings stretched out and up forming a circle in which it held what appeared to be the circle. Now that she looked upon it, she thought perhaps it was maybe a moon that the bird held. But still, who did it belong to?

Mercy followed one of the walkways to stand on one of the pedestals on which she could see the same symbol and peered around the chamber. She returned to the main platform and climbed to the other two pedestals again finding the same symbol.  
Mercy peered over the edge of the platform she stood on. Beneath her she could see the reflection of the candle in the murky water below. Looking up she could only see blackness. She stood and wondered what this chamber could have been used for; perhaps some strange dark ritual or maybe it was for offering a sacrifice to some daedra? Whatever the use, it seemed it had sat abandoned for some time considering the decay of the furnishings she had found and the state of chambers.

Shrugging her shoulders, she returned through the chambers and back to the door she had first discovered and left the cave behind with unanswered questions running through her mind.

 

~*~

 

In the chamber where the three pedestals stood, a shimmering light appeared hovering over the symbol on the floor.

It hovered for a few minutes, pulsing in brightness. A voice filled the empty chamber.

“Ah little one, I was wondering when you would discover me. Come to look for the answers to questions that have not yet even entered your mind? Time enough, little one. But beware and know that you do not walk in the shadows alone.”

The light brightened for a moment then winked out and blackness and shadow was all that remained.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_I live among the shadows now, a part of them, and I am fearful of the darkness around me._

_I am not alone in the darkness. There are others here. Of who they are I do not know for I know not where I have come to._

_I sense them as they sense me, but they do not approach me._

_The voices in the shadows grow louder the longer I am here._

_The blackness that surrounds me brings me no comfort. I feel the weight of their judgement; I feel their hatred for me._

_I thought in death I would find peace, but I have only found a struggle to hold onto whatever memories of the life I led before I died. Not the horrible things I did or said, or the atrocious acts I committed, but the sweet memories of a woman who had accepted me, who had offered her love to me and had given me a child._

_I am condemned to be stuck here, not moving on. If this is my punishment for the wrongs I committed than I will accept it. I will suffer through it. Separated from those I loved._

_What worse a punishment could there be I wonder?_

 

_~*~_

 

_There is a worse punishment._

_I have discovered it not too long ago._

_I saw her, for the first time since that fateful day; the day when it had ended and I had passed through to the shadows; Karliah._

_She has been here all of this time, waiting for me. Waiting in the shadows for me to arrive and waiting so that she can begin again the game that we had played for so long._

_She is strong, cunning, and twisted._

 

_~*~_

 

_She came rushing out of the shadows, a blur of anger and madness._

_Cold as ice gripping me by the throat, laughing then in the blink of an eye she was gone; gone back to the shadows._

_How she can possess such strength is beyond me. I am nothing but a mere shadow of myself in this place._

 

_~*~_

 

_She screams now, every minute of every passing hour if time was measured here. I cover my ears and beg her to stop but she won’t._

_She laughs and those eyes of hers just glow; purple eyes that stare into mine._

_She appeared before me, gaunt and hollow, a thinner reflection of what she once was; twisted by the hatred she still carries in her heart towards me; accusing me of the crimes that I committed against her._

_She still refuses to see what she had done._

_She still refuses to see that it was she that killed Gallus._

 

_~*~_

 

_There is someone else here. Someone I know._

_He appeared to me. I was alarmed at first, unsure of how he would react to me, but he was, civil. Gallus Desidenius, former Guild Master and the man that I was accused of killing, but that had been her, Karliah in her rage to seek revenge for her mother’s death._

_He grows weaker by the day, he tells me and this place is draining his strength. That she is draining his strength, using it so she can move between the layers of shadows; using it so she can attack me._

_“Things are not as they seem here.”_

_He should know, he has been here for so long, longer than most would be allowed if things were the way they were supposed to be._

_That is my fault. I designed the trap we are caught in, but how? I have no clue._

_I had no idea what I had done until now._

_I was selfish, jealous and consumed by greed and wanted more; I could not foresee the path that I had begun on and the consequences that I now share in._

 

_~*~_

 

_He speaks of the past, when things were different; a time when we were at the Guild._

_He speaks of her and of me and then of thoughts that confuse him. He believes now that he may have acted in haste, without thought, that he too was blinded by what was not. That she had fooled us all._

_He apologized for his part in it, and I for mine._

 

_~*~_

 

_She has become more violent; more persistent in her attacks._

_She is now stronger than me and I have begun to worry._

_She laughed and taunted me with words that stung and shattered what would have been my heart if I had been alive._

_She cannot do physical harm for I have no body to harm, only the essence of me, but she still can destroy me I am sure. Stop me from moving on to where we are supposed to be._

_Supposed to be, I wonder where that is? Surely it cannot be here? I must ask Gallus._

 

_~*~_

 

_I found out what I had to and now, now I know._

_We are trapped here in limbo forever unless the Key is returned, then and only then, can we move on._

_But what Key is it that he speaks of?_

 

_~*~_

 

_He told me I must find that which I took. I must return it to where I had taken it from and then it will be set right._

_That our mistress will open the portal and then we can travel through to her plane and become what we are meant to be; sentinels in the dark, the shadows that live in the night._

_He said there is a way, but I must be careful. It is wrought with danger. But how much more dangerous can it be than being trapped in here with her forever?_

_But the question is; where is the Key? I don’t know._

 

_~*~_

 

_I have to find the way out._

_I cannot escape, but for a few minutes I need to reach through the blackness to the other side and I need to make contact._

_They will know where the Key is; they have to, for all our sakes._

 

_~*~_

 

_Karliah knows what I am doing now and she is trying to stop me. She does everything she can possibly do to make sure that I do not make contact. She attacks me every opportunity she can._

_I have to succeed._

 

_~*~_

 

_At first it was just a whisper of movement, then the bonds that gripped me eased and I was able to reach out and for the briefer of a second, I was there, in their world, but I was pulled back with a snap that left me weak and disoriented._

_I must keep trying until I can leave the world I am trapped within and freely move around in their world._

_It will not long, but it will long enough to give them a message._

_But who, who would I touch, who would I reach out to nudge in the direction they had to look?_

_I barely knew of her, my daughter, she had not been born yet when I had passed. But I knew of her existence as surely as I had known of mine and Gynni’s. I could sense her; she is a part of me in another plane of existence so close to mine, yet in reality the gulf between us is a large expanse._

_I settled with him being the one and thought it might prove interesting; Brynjolf._

_I wondered how he would react to me appearing before him._

_I knew how I would._

 

_~*~_

 

_Karliah has been quiet of late. I wonder where she has gone to._

_Gallus is so tired. He barely speaks to me now. He is unsure of where she has gone to. He is worried that she may be trying to stop me. That her interference might be of that which might cost us dearly, me dearly._

_The only thing that I value is...her._

_No, she would not. Would she dare? Would she dare take the last part of me that I cherish? Would she be as cold and callous as to harm Mercy?_

_I know the answer._

_I must warn Brynjolf that she is danger. I only hope that I am not too late._

 


	6. Chapter 6

Mercy was lying in her bed in Riftweald Manor. She had given up, waiting for Brynjolf, to come home from wherever he had gone to. In a way she was not looking forward to his return.

He had stated rather abruptly the morning he left, that he had business to attend to and that Mercy was to stay in Riften. No further exploring like she had been doing. He told her that he knew of her nightly excursions and that he was not happy.

Mercy had argued against him; telling him that she felt like he was keeping her almost caged like some animal and she had told him that she could and would do as she pleased that he was not her father.  
The words had come out quickly and harshly and before she could have stopped to think on what she had said to him.

He had looked away and had nodded; his shoulders drooping slightly and then he had stated that she was right. He was not her father and he had no control over her. He then had stated that he was only the man that had raised her, clothed her, fed her and comforted her for all of her life. He did not have any right to tell her how to live her life. He could only say that he loved her as if she was his own flesh and blood.

It had been the look upon his face that had bothered her this time, as he had strode away. Something was weighing heavily on him and she did not want to add to it; but the thought of the new discovery played on her mind and she could not help but be tempted by it.

Regardless what Brynjolf said, she was going back. Hopefully she could convince Marcurio to accompany her. At least he understood her feelings.

She rolled over and sighed, resolving herself to the fact that her life was not going to go anywhere unless she took charge of it. Her mind recalled the strange cave she had discovered and the chambers within. She wondered if perhaps Delvin or Vex would know of its meaning. She rose from her bed, dressed and hurried down to Brynjolf’s desk to find a parchment and a piece of charcoal. She sketched from memory, the symbol she had seen of the bird and the moon, then carefully rolled the parchment up and hurried to the Ragged Flagon where she sought answers.

 

~*~

 

Delvin was immersed in paperwork at the desk in the Cistern, while the rest of the Guild, was preparing to leave on jobs. He was sitting with his brow furrowed, hunched over the desk, a quill between his fingers. Judging by his mood, now was not a good time to ask for his help.  
He told her, it would take him a wee bit, before he could look at whatever it was that she wanted to show him.  
Mercy backed away, deciding that she would look elsewhere for someone to assist her in deciphering the symbol.

Mercy looked for Vex who was on her hands and knees in the training room, resetting the locks on the chests, after a session with some of the new recruits. She turned to look up at Mercy when she approached, one eyebrow raising.

“Mercy, up early aren’t you?”

Mercy leaned against the wall watching the blonde Imperial work and nodded.

"I couldn't sleep. Brynjolf and I got into an argument."

Vex smiled.

She liked Vex even with her cold distant attitude, but Mercy knew it was a defense mechanism. The woman obviously had a past that she did not wish to share with anyone and that was fine with Mercy.

Vex had always been there when she had needed a woman to speak to. Brynjolf was a good father figure raising her, but sometimes he did not just understand what it meant to be a girl.

“Brynjolf is not home yet and I grew tired of waiting for him. Vex I need a favor, but you cannot tell him. You know how he is.”

Vex looked up from her place on the floor, studying the face of the young woman.  
In the eighteen years now Vex had known her, she knew that Mercy was getting restless and wanted to spread her wings. Mercy was ready to take on the world just as Vex had when she was that age. Brynjolf protected her and would not let her get into any trouble. Vex snorted, maybe she would give Mercy a little push in the right direction of becoming her own woman and show Brynjolf she was not that little girl that he rocked in his arms.

“I went exploring and I found a cave. I found this symbol inside it. I was hoping you might know what it is.”

“Going against his orders I see. If he finds out Mercy…”

“Well he won’t will him, Vex. You wouldn’t tell on me would you?”

Vex took the parchment from Mercy’s outstretched hand and looked at the symbol. It seemed slightly familiar but she was not entirely sure of where she had seen it before. She stood then smiled.

“Let’s go see if ol’ Delvin will know.”

 

~*~

 

Delvin Mallory sat staring at the parchment and the symbol on it. He looked between Mercy and Vex not saying a thing. He kept his face from revealing what he knew. If Mercy had found this than he would need to tell Brynjolf, even though he had just promised Mercy and Vex that he would not. The symbol he had seen long ago, only it had been on a sword.

Delvin was not sure what it had meant, but nineteen years ago, two years before Mercy had been born, Delvin had glimpsed that very symbol on a sword on Mercer’s hip.  
Mercer had worn that sword for only a short time, then no one saw it again.

When they had returned his body to Riften, from Snow Veil Sanctum where he had succumbed to his injuries from the fight with Karliah, to be buried in the little graveyard by the secret entrance to the Cistern, the sword had not been among his belongings. The sword had not been counted among the belongings of Gynni either when she had passed away after giving life to Mercy.

If it had anything to do where Mercer Frey was concerned it might mean trouble.

Delvin scratched his head and cocked it to one side.

“No idea what it means. Aven’t saw it before. Where’d ya say ya found it?”

Mercy stared into Delvin’s eyes and nodded.

“I didn’t say did I?”

Her eyes twinkled and for a second Delvin thought he saw them glow blue.

 

~*~

 

Mercy sat with her back against the rock watching the wooden door to the cave. Her mind played different scenarios of what could possibly happen, of what the symbol meant. Then she went to thinking of what would happen if Brynjolf found out. She shook her head, this was too important she felt to ignore. Something about that cave called to her.

Mercy stood up, her fists at her side.

Confrontation or not she was going inside that cave and she would go to that chamber with the three pedestals and she would find out what it meant.

Now all she had to do, was plan out when and get that Marcurio to help her. She smiled to herself. Bribing him would be easy, a few coin across his palm and he would accompany her. After all, had he not said that he would willingly and gladly go with her on her adventures?

 


	7. Chapter 7

Brynjolf left his horse at the stables, and walked through the main gate into Riften. He took the path to the left and followed along until he came to the rear entrance of Riftweald Manor. He stood looking up at the building, studying it in the afternoon light. As he studied it, he felt a draft brush by his side. He turned to see no one around him and just put it down to being the wind.

He knew that Mercy would be angry by now and no doubt she would interrogate him on what had happened and where he had gone to for so long on such short notice. He rubbed his face and grimaced, not entirely sure if he was up for it yet.

Changing his mind he dodged it, and resumed his walk around to the secret entrance of the Cistern and pressed the button waiting for the lid of the sarcophagi to slide back. It grated stone against stone and Brynjolf made a mental note to have something done about that. Nothing like alerting the town guards that they were coming in and out of here.

As he climbed down the ladder he had the sudden feeling that he was not alone on the ladder, that someone was watching him. He peered down the ladder into the darkness and saw nothing. He looked back up and no one was there. The hair on the back of his neck stood and he felt a chill run down the length of his spine.

Suddenly, he felt two cold hands grasping his and he felt himself being wrenched from the ladder and then he felt himself falling through the air to land with an unceremonious thud at the bottom.

Thrynn rushed forward to aid him to his feet and Brynjolf looked up the ladder into the darkness.

“Quick, grab that torch! Someone is up there!”

Thrynn grabbed the nearest torch and was up the ladder in an instant then reappeared a few minutes later with a look of puzzlement on his face. He did not say a thing to Brynjolf, he just shook his head.

Brynjolf gritted his teeth then swore as he ambled towards the desk. He could have sworn that there had been someone else on the ladder in the dark with him and that they had pushed him. He had felt the two cold hands as surely as he could feel the desk underneath his fingertips.

Brynjolf leaned on the desk, hanging his head and wondered what was happening to him. Had he imagined it? He did not think so.

His trip to Winterhold had opened his eyes to a world that had not existed in his mind, one of fairy tales and stories told to children to keep them in line. He heard of things that had made his blood run cold in his veins; things that he could not believe in until he was shown. The things he had been shown had left him with a greater sense of that around him. He shivered against a cold chill that seemed to have followed him all the way from Winterhold.

There was a world beyond the dark, beyond death, shrouded in shadow and only those there knew of what existed. Those on this side that peeled that curtain back and glimpsed it, were not fortunate to know the truth. Brynjolf now counted himself among them.

 

~*~

 

Mercy sat on the edge of her bed pouting. Her fists were clenched and she was angry with him. Why could he not just be truthful with her and tell her what was bothering him? She could see it on his face and lately hear it in his voice.

Whatever it was that weighed heavily upon the man that was raising her, she wanted to help him with. But he treated her as the child that he thought she still was. It infuriated her.

He had left a few minutes ago. Since he had returned from Winterhold, his mood had not improved; in fact she thought it was worse. After they had argued again, a part of her wanted to tell him about the cave and the chamber that she had found in hopes that he would return with her. That it would be him that could help her solve this mystery. That it would be him that could share in whatever it was that seemed to pull her there.

Now she sat fuming. Fine, if he wanted to be like that, she could too. She would go to the cave with Marcurio as she had first planned.

Mercy lifted her head when she heard footsteps on the main level.

So he had returned. Come to apologize for being wrong? Mercy rushed down the stairs to confront Brynjolf and to apologize for her behavior and found she was alone. Brynjolf was not there. She looked around thinking perhaps he had gone into Mercer’s office for some reason as the door was slightly open.

Mercy peered round the corner to Mercer’s office door. Brynjolf was not there. Behind her she thought she heard a chair scrape against the floor in the dining area.

She turned and moved silently towards the dining area, again no Brynjolf. Was he playing some kind of joke on her? If he was it was odd after the mood he had been in.

Mercy heard something in the cellar. She walked to the top landing and peered down the stairs then she descended down the stairs to the cellar, pausing on each riser, waiting for any hint of sound from below.

“Brynjolf?”

She reached the final riser and there was no one in the cellar. A chill ran up her spine and she felt as if she was being watched.

Brows came together as she frowned and bit her lip. She was sure that he had returned. Who else would be in the manor? She puffed out her breath between pursed lips and turned in time to see a shadow against the wall move and she shrieked. She ran up the stairs two at a time.

Chiding herself for being so foolish, Mercy left by the rear entrance. It had probably been her own shadow that she had seen.

In the cellar a shadow moved from the corner. It stood listening before moving up the stairs and coming to stand in the dining room laughing.

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf was in the training room in the Cistern when Mercy arrived out of breath. She rushed up to him, clutching her chest as she dragged her breath in through her open mouth.

“What is wrong Mercy?”

Mercy slumped down the wall to sit on the ground and held one finger up until she caught her breath.

“I was in my room, after you left, and I thought you had come back. I came downstairs and you weren’t there. I went down to the cellar and I thought someone was there. I saw a shadow and ran.”

Mercy broke out laughing thinking how foolish it sounded. She was not a little child anymore and the thought of running from the shadows was silly.

Brynjolf smiled, but underneath he wondered what it could have been. This happening to Mercy and what had happened to him on the ladder was perhaps no mere coincidence. Or was it? He wondered if this had anything to do with the nightmares he had been having. Only they weren’t nightmares were they now? Someone on the other side was desperately trying to contact him and now they were manifesting themselves in this world.

He came to where she sat against the wall, on the ground, and sank down beside her his knee leaning against hers. He bumped his leg against hers and smiled.

“I am sorry I did not tell you more about what happened in Winterhold, but I did not want to cause you alarm…”

Mercy struggled to her feet.

“Ugh, tell no more, I understand. You have a business to run and me getting in the way only interferes with that.”

“You are never interfering Mercy. Unlike whatever that is that is going on.”

Mercy turned her head towards the noise coming from the Cistern.

Brynjolf laughed. “They are at it, again.”

He inclined his head to the Cistern to where raised voices could be heard growing louder.

Mercy and Brynjolf walked out of the training room to find Vex and Delvin, standing inches apart, deep in a heated discussion. They stopped when they saw Brynjolf and Mercy appear.

“Don’t let us stop you. I find your arguments quite entertaining.” Brynjolf folded his arms across his chest.

Vex stepped back from Delvin and turned away heading for the Ragged Flagon. Delvin threw his hands up into the air.

“Women!”

“What are you fighting about Delvin?” Mercy slid to stand beside him looking into his face and smiling. “Are you still trying to get her to go on a date with you?”

Delvin laughed. “You know that will never ‘appen. She and I will never be.” He sighed deeply. “No, uh, it was just a misunderstandin’ that’s all, not anythin’ to concern yourself with Mercy.”

Over her head, Delvin winked at Brynjolf, who understood, that there was more to the argument than what Delvin wanted to admit to in front of Mercy.

 

~*~

 

Later when Mercy had left the Cistern, saying that she had some chores to attend to, Delvin spoke to Brynjolf. He told him of the parchment, the symbol and his suspicions on what it meant.

Brynjolf listened, his heart beating rapidly. Wherever Mercy had been, she had found that symbol and Brynjolf had his suspicion as to whom it might belong to. He thanked Delvin then hurried out of the Cistern.

 

~*~

 

Mercy hopped from foot to foot as Marcurio took his time walking up the path. He carried a lantern in his outstretched hand and his face was cast in shadows. He stopped before the open wooden door and peered inside.

“You said you found this a few days ago? You should have told me then. I would have explored it with you. You know it is dangerous…”

Marcurio looked at Mercy with the same look upon his face that Brynjolf had done so often before.

“I know, please don’t lecture me now, Marcurio. Come on; let’s get inside before someone sees us.”

The two figures headed through the open door and into the blackness that was chased away by the lantern.

Marcurio oohed and awed his way through the passageways and chambers. When they finally came to the room with the three pedestals, he fell silent and stood staring. He wandered along the edge of the symbol on the floor.

“It looks like a crow or a black bird, holding the moon or maybe it is the sun. I wonder who it belongs to?”

Mercy snorted. “I thought you knew the history of this area, Marcurio.”

“I do, but I don’t recognize this symbol.”

He wandered up one of the walkways to the pedestal and stood looking around. He turned to Mercy and smiled.

“This is great. Do you know what this is for?”

Mercy shook her head, but was eager to hear what Marcurio knew of the meaning of the symbols and the chamber was used for.

“It is for…”

“Thank you, Marcurio. That is all you will say.”

Brynjolf stepped from the shadows, his face stony. He motioned for Marcurio to leave, but Marcurio shook his head in defiance.

“Why do you not want her to know of the meaning of this place, Brynjolf? Have you something to fear?”

Brynjolf stepped closer to Marcurio; his eyes narrowing into slits.

“No, I have nothing to fear” he started softly, “but you do. Now I suggest you leave at once.”

Marcurio turned to look at Mercy and smiled weakly. “I am sorry, my friend. It seems I am no longer needed here. Ah, good luck.”

Mercy opened her mouth to protest but closed it when she saw the look on Brynjolf’s face.

 

~*~

 

Mercy stood, eyes not blinking, with her hands on her hips listening to Brynjolf speak about all of the irresponsible acts that she could have committed. What would have happened if whoever this belonged to had been here and her and Marcurio had walked in on some sort of ritual and then ended up in trouble?

“Marcurio is a mage. I would have been fine. He could protect me.” Mercy folded her arms across her chest and stuck her chin out defiantly.

“Oh, so now he can protect you, but I cannot?” Brynjolf countered with his hands going to his hips.

She felt like she had been caught stealing from the temple of Mara. And that was beneath her. She did not steal nor would she ever from the poor.

Brynjolf paced back and forth in front of her his lips tight, his face not showing any emotion.

“I am sorry Brynjolf. I should have listened to you. You are only trying to keep me safe. I understand that but do you know you are also suffocating me? I am not that little girl anymore that needs you to tuck her in at night or to chase the monsters out from under her bed. I am old enough to…”

Brynjolf was staring at her, or so she thought.

Brynjolf’s eyebrows came together and his mouth opened slightly as if he was going to say something. His eyes widened and he blinked in succession several times.

“Mercy, move behind me, now lass.”

It came from his mouth in a whisper and a chill feeling crept up Mercy’s spine. She moved towards Brynjolf to stand behind him.

In the corner, where the shadows met, a slim sliver of light shimmered moving lazily across the floor.

It wavered slightly then grew in its intensity. It glowed brighter than a star on a dark night.

Mercy gripped Brynjolf’s arm. “What is it?” She whispered.

Brynjolf shook his head, he was not sure. The light stopped a few feet from them then a voice filled the chamber.

“Ah. Little one, I see you have returned and with questions no doubt.”

Brynjolf was puzzled at who this could be. What trickery lay before them?

“I see you have brought someone with you. Brynjolf: master thief, father figure and protector; but you are only two and I need three. You need one more that I will deem worthy before I give to you what you will need.”

Brynjolf stepped forward. “Give us what we need? Who are you? Show yourself!”

“Ah the master thief speaks. So the leader he is of this intervention between shadow and light. Very well I will show you.”

The light dimmed and from it stepped a woman clothed in a filmy black gown, legs and arms exposed. Cut down the front and back exposing flesh that shimmered like the black ink used to write the numbers in the ledger at the Guild. On her shoulder a black bird sat and it looked to be the same one that graced the floor at their feet on the symbol.

“You may not recognize me, but I know of you and those that you were with once long ago. I am Nocturnal, Mistress of the Night, patron of the dark and thieves. I am also known to you as Lady Luck. I am the one that gives you your abilities to stay within the shadows. It is I the one that causes your luck to change from bad to good.”

Brynjolf watched her as she floated, not quite touching the ground. “The daedra are not to be trusted.”

“You speak the truth, but then without me you would not be where you are, would you. Who do you think has kept you close to her bosom all this time, enabling you to become who you are? Do you seriously think that without me you would have the luck you do thief? I am the one that veils the moon in cloud. I am the one that turns the face of your intended target when you stretch out your hand to reach into their pocket. I am the one that stretches the shadow to keep you safe from the guard when they search for you as you hide. Without me your life would be nothing.”

“I make my own luck. I do not hold the belief that you help me in any way.” Brynjolf drew himself up tall.

Nocturnal moved closer to Brynjolf, reaching out one hand she brushed his cheek. Brynjolf shivered against it.

“You may have taken me for granted, but you will soon realize that I have been with you all along. And when you do, you will serve me as the others before you have.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Brynjolf sat on his haunches by the great stone monument near the door he and Mercy had just exited from. His mind replayed what had happened within the chamber. He was visibly shaking, his hands held out in front of him and he kept hearing the words that Nocturnal had uttered.

_“And when you do, you will serve me as the others before you have.”_

What had she meant by those words she had spoken?  
Brynjolf was not about to serve any daedra no matter what and he was not going to make any deals with them either. That could only bring about trouble.  
If this was the beginning, of what he thought it was, then the road ahead was going to prove to be more difficult than he expected.  
He wondered if Mercer was somehow tied to Nocturnal. Had he worked with her in the past? Was he working with her now? Or was he trying to escape from her? Was Mercer trying to warn him about Nocturnal? It still did not make sense to him.

Brynjolf had the heard stories of the daedra and how they amused themselves with the games they played with the lives of those they chose to meddle in.  
From appearing and offering something that was too good to be true that lead to one’s eventual downfall changing them into something they were not, to games of drinking that lead one on a merry chase across Skyrim and then the path of having to sort out one’s mistakes or to unlocking the understanding of all the knowledge possible, that drove one mad after they read the text of a book.

He did not want to become a victim to a daedra nor did he want Mercy involved in any way.

He looked over to where she stood, shaking and with a pale face. Her eyes large and round.

“Nocturnal, this is the temple of Nocturnal. She is not good, is she?”

Brynjolf hoisted himself to his feet and slipped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, squeezing gently to reassure her. He needed reassurance to and the only way he was going to find that was by solving this mystery.

“None of the daedra are good, lass. But I won’t let any harm come to you.”

She stiffened under the weight of his arm. “I am sorry. I am so sorry, Brynjolf. I should have listened to you. What have I got us into?”

He sighed. “That lass, is what I intend to find out.”

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf sat listening to what Delvin and Vex had to say on the subject. He had filled them in on everything that had occurred; including the strange dreams he had, the nightmares, the odd sensation of someone on the ladder to the more recent conversation with a daedra.

The concern on their faces was obvious and Vex had stated several times that she always had an inkling that there was more to their previous Guild Master than he had let on. But to be involved with Nocturnal?  
Vex understood the thought that some had linking the thieves luck with some being that assisted them, but to actually hear that that was what was involved, it gave her pause.

“Do you really think he had been involved with her? And if he was what did the relationship between them incur?”

Delvin cleared his throat. “The sword I saw, it 'ad the same symbol, Vex. It was in his possession. No doubt he was workin' wi' Nocturnal. Perhaps that was why he was able to fool us for so long.The question is where has it gone too? I 'aven't seen it since before Mercy was born.”

"I might have an idea where it could be."

Brynjolf rose and pulled the key he wore around his neck out and looked at Delvin.

“Let’s have us a look, shall we?”

~*~

They went to the vault to stand before it and gaze upon the door.

Brynjolf and Delvin both placed their keys inside the locks and turned them, releasing the tumblers and the door was unlocked.  
It swung back on its heavy hinges, revealing a dark maw that stared back at them.

A chill ran up Brynjolf's spine as he wondered what ghosts were buried in there.

"Are we goin' in or we just goin' to stare at it?" Delvin inquired giving Brynjolf a funny look.

They each took up a torch and entered within the depths of the vault.

The vault had not been used in ages, not since Mercer had passed. Cobwebs clung to corners and a fine layer of dust had settled on the tops of chests and tables alike.  
A drip of water, from the ceiling overhead, had caused a small pool of water to collect on the floor and the light from their torches reflected in its inky depths.

Brynjolf lit the braziers within, watching as the warm golden glow filled the vault, dancing over the surfaces of the floor, the walls and a few trinkets that spilled from an overturned chest. The room, almost forgotten to time, sat silent revealing its riches that had been left to sit.

Brynjolf wondered if perhaps he should have an inventory listing of what this room contained, then he could assess whether or not to sell and put the funds into any future needed areas of the Thieves Guild.  
He returned to the job at hand, sighing heavily and hoping that what they searched for was in here among the many swords, maces and shields that lay in a heap on the floor, leaning against walls and resting on the tops of benches. He circled the vault looking through the forgotten items until on a bench near the back, he spied the sword sitting by itself.

“Here’s where you are.”

He bent to retrieve it, then lifted it, the light from the braziers igniting a bright flash on its surface that, at first, appeared to them that the sword had a life of its own.  
Brynjolf held it in his hand, turning it this way and that, admiring the detail on the hilt and along the blade.He looked at the symbol on the hilt; the same symbol found in the chamber that Mercy and Marcurio had stood in where he had waited for them in the dark corner.

Brynjolf opened his mouth to speak to Delvin and Vex when through the sword he felt a hum. It traveled up his arm to his shoulder and settled into the back of his neck. His eyes widened and he could hear a voice in his head; the voice of Nocturnal.

“No, that is not what you seek.”

The voice subsided and Brynjolf felt the sword grow still.  
He dropped it on the floor, looking at it as if it were some great beast that had tried to bite him, then he looked to the others.

Vex jumped forward and he raised one hand, stopping her from picking it up.

“No, don’t touch it. I don’t think this is what we need.”

Vex looked at him in puzzlement.

Brynjolf shook his head.

“Leave it be.”

 

~*~

 

Mercy sat on the edge of Brynjolf’s bed in the Cistern. Her round eyes watching him.  
Brynjolf thought perhaps it might be safer, if she was here, surrounded by the Thieves Guild. He knew that eventually whatever it was that had scared her at Riftweald Manor would possibly attempt to come here. Hopefully this time it would manifest itself and they could get down to business.

Brynjolf ordered her to lie down and to get some sleep. She complied, after grumbling about him pulling the parent card again. He just nodded and raised one finger to his lips and winked at her.

 

~*~

 

Candles spluttered in their holders on nightstands; their flames dancing and creating a pattern that glinted on metal and reflected in the pool of water in the center of the Cistern.  
The Cistern was quiet, except for the occasional cough or snore from the sleeping members of the Guild. Delvin was in the Ragged Flagon with Vex going through some of Mercer’s old journals, looking for anything that might help solve this ridiculous puzzle.

Brynjolf rested on his chair uneasily, his legs stretched out before him crossed at the ankles. He had his arms folded across his chest as he kept watch for any signs of an intruder.  
The hour was late and his eyelids were beginning to droop; he struggled to stay awake. He shook himself and focused on Mercy where she laid asleep, one arm thrown out over the edge of the bed, her hand curled into a fist, her blankets kicked off in a heap on the floor. She was mumbling in her sleep.  
He stood stretching, rolling his shoulders as he walked over to her, kneeling at the side of the narrow bed and watched her sleep for a moment, then lifting the blankets from the floor, he covered her.

Her eyes were moving under her eyelids rapidly as she dreamed and he prayed that it was a good dream and not some horrific nightmare. He touched her cheek gently and told her he was near. At his touch she seemed to sense that it was him and she settled, a small smile crossing her lips.

Brynjolf returned to his chair and sat back down watching and guarding.

The candle, on the nightstand beside her bed, snuffed out as a slight breeze from the ladder and the secret entrance moved past him.  
He sniffed the air and was greeted with the scent of something familiar that he could not place.

A cold foreboding feeling moved around him, encompassing him in its grasp, halting his supply of oxygen and for a second he could have sworn he heard his name whispered in his ear from lips that did not have any substance.

Brynjolf growled.

He stood and he watched as each candle in the Cistern was extinguished and he followed the path it led around to the desk.

A flicker of light appeared by the desk and a form slowly appeared, wavering in between shadow and light. It moved to behind the desk and stopped growing brighter.

Brynjolf walked towards it and stopped.

"Show yourself!"

His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to speak. He could not believe what he saw. Or should he say who he saw.

It was Mercer Frey.

“Hello, Brynjolf. Surprised to see me?”


	9. Chapter 9

Maven Black-Briar sat in her dining room, spearing the salmon steak on the plate before her with her fork. Her front teeth severed a piece of the fish and she chewed it with great enthusiasm while her narrow eyes regarded Ingun.

Ingun sat at the opposite end of the table, with a book perched leaning against a bowl of green apples. Her eyes never left the book while she ate her dinner.

The girl was wasting her time with those stupid experiments again. Why on earth she thought she wanted to become a mage was beyond Maven. Maven disliked mages; in fact right now, she disliked everyone; unless they could bring her what she wanted. And truth be told, there were very few people who fell into that category lately.

Maven bit off another piece of salmon and directed her view now towards Hemming. He was chewing his food with his mouth open; a rather annoying and unbecoming sight. He was an odd little man, who liked to boast about his proficiency in using a weapon in battle. Maven thought if it ever came down to a fight he would no doubt run behind her skirts like the child he still was; so in her opinion, he was useless to her. She felt nothing for him but apathy and if anything were to happen to him, she would not shed a single tear.

Her mind turned to Sibbi; she hoped that he would heed the last words she had spoken to him on the day he had been released from prison.  
If he were to ever show his face in Skyrim again she would surely know and she would, despite him being related to her, end his existence with one sweep of her hand. And she would. She was tired of his drama.  
He had started to speak about wanting revenge for those who had been the cause of his time in jail and Maven had told him if he sought it and was caught that she would not assist him and he could rot away in some cell wherever.

She was in the right mind to wave her hand and have everyone swept from her sight, never to return.  
The annoyances in her life of late had mounted but, she had a plan for all of them.  
Little did those closest to her know that she had summoned the Dark Brotherhood. In fact, she had summoned them several times in the last few months and was still awaiting an answer. Her patience for them becoming frayed and not helping her mood at all.  
Did they not realize how urgent a matter this was?

Her list of targets was long and right now the name at the top of the list was none other than Brynjolf’s.  
Who did he think he was, strutting around Riften thinking he owned the city? He was nothing more than some lowly thief, the leader of some guild that hid under the streets, living in the sewers like some filthy rodent. The sewers! What _kind_ of operation was he running? Then there was that child of his, or rather Mercer Frey’s; the spawn of a man that had been _just_ as useless as any of the people that she had done business with. She smirked, his death had been no surprise, but she was miffed that it had been someone else's hand that had finally claimed that honor and not her.

That child of his was nothing but an impudent thing. Oh yes, Maven had seen her skulking around the market like some stray dog trying to avoid her. Well, she had not avoided her because she had seen her, the annoying little imp. She reminded Maven so much of her father and he was dead fortunate for her.  
She thought about that for a moment and laughed to herself drawing the attention of Ingun who looked up from her book.

Maven smiled for a second, then went back to chewing her salmon.  
They would rue the day to try and cross Maven Black-Briar. She was, in her opinion, the most influential and by rights, the most important person here in this little city; her little city and she were by no means done with it. No she had plans, plans of grandeur and they did not include those that she currently was sharing this meal with.

She bit off another piece of salmon steak and pretended that it was the head of one of her enemies.  
She sat contemplating, while chewing vigorously, what she would do if she ever had cause to speak to that red headed man again. Waiting for the Dark Brotherhood was wearing on her patience. She wanted results and wanted them now.  
Later she would perform the ritual again.

A slow smile crossed her face and Maven chuckled to herself quietly. Yes, yes, the seeds of a plan were beginning to form in her mind. A glint came to her eye as she looked at Ingun again.

“Ingun darling, how are your experiments going? Anything that is deeply dark and delicious? Do tell me of all of those potions you make. What did you say they were for?”


	10. Chapter 10

Mercer stood before Brynjolf, it took all of his energy and strength to hold to the world in which Brynjolf was and he could sense that he did not have much time. He had to hurry; he had to make Brynjolf understand.  
Karliah was growing stronger and Mercer was fearful for what she might do next. She was gone for extended periods of time and he was sure that she was watching both Mercy and Brynjolf.  
Inside he felt his fear, his anger and it would not help him gain an upper hand in this situation. He needed to remain calm, to remain focused. He could not afford to be distracted. Too much rested on his actions.

He turned to look at Brynjolf. The man looked haggard and tired. Mercer could see how this was wearing on him.

“Brynjolf, I have not much time.”

Brynjolf stared at the apparition shifting before him; his face grimacing then turning towards anger.

“You! Has it been you that has been haunting me? Was it you that threw me down the ladder? Are you the one haunting Mercy? Why would you want to harm Mercy? She is your daughter. What do you want?”

Mercer shook his head. “Enough of the questions, Brynjolf, listen to me. I have been trying to contact only you, not Mercy.”

Mercer paused and worried that he might be too late. “ I have not much time. Mercy is in danger. I cannot explain all of this now she is coming. Keep Mercy safe. You need to find the Key. I will…”

Brynjolf heard a blood curdling scream and then Mercer blinked from existence as Brynjolf felt the presence of something darker and more sinister replace him. Something brushed his cheek and he felt an icy chill run through his body. A cold hand wrapped around his throat and he was then raised from his feet and thrown back across the Cistern, landing in the pool of water in the center.

Mercy woke from her sleep, bleary eyed and confused and she sat up and looked to where Brynjolf sat in the water.

“Brynjolf! What happened?”

Brynjolf swiveled to look at her as she stood and headed in his direction.

“Stay back, Mercy!”

Other members of the Guild rose from their sleep and slowly stood to watch what was developing before them.  
Confused looks were passed between them and queries could be heard.

Mercy moved from the bed and ran towards him. She grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“What happened?”

They both heard the shrill laugh. In front of them a slim wisp of light appeared and both of them watched as it grew brighter, then slowly the light disappeared and they were left wondering what had occurred.

 

~*~

 

“So you are saying that it was Mercer Frey who appeared to you? Um, Bryn, are you…”

Brynjolf shook his head. He knew what Vex was going to ask, if he was seeing things or imagining it. But no, he had not. He had a hard time believing it too and an even harder time believing that he had been thrown across the Cistern by Mercer.  
The other members of the Guild had come forth after the light had disappeared and they sought answers to what they had witnessed. Brynjolf told them he was not sure, but for them to remain calm as could be and to go back to sleep. He had assured them as best as he could that he would look after it.

“I don’t understand why he would appear and say what he said, then attack you. Unless…” Delvin interjected interrupting Brynjolf's thoughts.

“I don’t think it was him that attacked me.” Brynjolf calmly stated.

Vex and Delvin looked at each other.

Brynjolf sighed. “Well what? Just tell me what you are thinking.”

He knew they did not always need words between them to express their opinions.

“Well, if it was not Mercer and it was someone else that did that; maybe the same someone who is haunting Mercy.” Vex stared at Brynjolf. “Maybe even the same someone that threw you down the ladder.”

Brynjolf’s jaw flexed and he wondered who else it could be, then as he sat thinking, it dawned on him that Mercer had said _“she”_ just before he had winked out of existence. A sinking feeling wove itself around him.

“Mercer was trying to tell me that someone was coming. His exact words were, _“I have been trying to contact only you, Brynjolf. I have not much time, listen to me. Mercy is in danger. I cannot explain all of this now she is coming. Keep Mercy safe. I will…"  
_

Delvin scratched his head then rubbed his face. As he looked up at his two associates it hit him. “Bryn, do you think... it could be Gynni?”

Brynjolf scoffed. “There is no way Gynni would harm her own child or me for that matter; and if it were her, the question would be why? I never gave her reason to be angry with me. Mercy is her child. But, there is one more, that we have not mentioned.”

Mercy strolled past where they sat talking heading towards the Cistern; a look of determination on her face. Brynjolf wondered what she was up to. She smiled faintly at them and continued on her way. They waited until she was gone before they resumed talking.

Vex leaned closer to Brynjolf. “Who, who are you speaking of?”

Brynjolf sat back his eyes growing narrow as he thought of her.  
He was there for the end. He had borne witness to the events that had ended with Mercer lying in a pool of his blood, dying from the wounds that she had inflicted.  
She had been set on revenge which had driven her mad; fooling those around her that she had been an ally and not the enemy.

Brynjolf touched his shoulder where the scar remained from the arrow that she had shot him with; either to keep him out of the way or to kill him while she killed Mercer and Gynni.

“Karliah.”

Her name came out like a whisper and for an instant Brynjolf thought he felt a cold chill run up his spine. He looked over his shoulder, apprehensive to speak of her lest she appear.

Vex and Delvin both sat back in their chairs and stared at Brynjolf.

“You think she is the one haunting Mercy and you?” Vex asked recalling herself what she had seen. She had not liked the lithe Dunmer from the moment she had set eyes on her.

Brynjolf nodded. “She was bent on revenge. Aye, she may have killed Mercer, but Gynni killed her. I think Karliah is still out for revenge and I think she is focusing on Mercy maybe not so much on me. But maybe I am in the way and if she gets rid of me then she has free run at Mercy.”

Delvin let out a low whistle. “Well I never ‘eard that before, but it doesn’t surprise me one bit. Bryn, you got to watch yourself. Karliah was a tricky one. 'Ere we thought she was on our side, but she was only usin’ you to get to Mercer.”

Brynjolf nodded as his hand clenched into a fist and he shook slightly.

He remembered how she had shown up to rescue Gynni and himself after the fight with Mercer; how she had been quiet at first on the trip, looking for Mercer, as if she was planning her every move; as if she was watching Vex and Niruin for their weaknesses and even, perhaps his own. He recalled how she had grown steadily annoyed with him and how her hand had gone to her dagger when he had wanted to rest after running flat out from the pursuit of Gynni and Mercer.  
He would never forget her amethyst eyes as they had flashed angrily at him.  
He hoped he was wrong. He did not want to cross paths with her again.


	11. Chapter 11

Maven stood holding the carefully-crafted bottle of poison in her trembling hands. She watched wide-eyed as the light caught the faceted sides of the bottle, causing its contents to glow a beautiful shade of green, reflecting on the surfaces around her. Her face was slack as if she was not fully in right mind; a tiny drop of drool hung at the corner of her lip. She shook herself as her eyes narrowed, her brows coming together as one as she moved through the manor.

She’d had Ingun prepare three such bottles and had already used one of them; wanting to test the poison’s effectiveness. She did not want this plan of hers to fail; the urgency to complete this had gripped her unlike any other scheme she had ever thought of before. It was all that she could think on; consuming her to the point where she could not sleep without thinking about it; it haunted her dreams.

The results were so far, not in the least surprising, and she was happy to have watched Hemming drink the poison, unsuspectingly poured in his wine during their lunch, that she had specifically prepared for his last meal. She had sat back, hands folded together and watched, as he had begun to cough and splutter, his hand rising to his throat, his eyes looking towards Maven, questioning why she had done this to him. She had just sat there, smiling at him and nodding.

“Oh yes, my dear, please do hurry and die. I have other matters to attend to.”

He had coughed one last time, his face turning a funny shade of blue and then he slumped forward into his plate of food, twitched once or twice and lay still.

Maven nodded, a sly smile coming to her lips. “Hmm, so that is what happens, interesting, now, let me see if the results vary, I wouldn’t want anything impeding my scheme.”

 

~*~

 

Maven watched as Ingun writhed on the floor at her feet; her accusing words catching in her throat as one hand reached out to grab her leg. Her feet hammered up and down then she fell still. Maven knelt down to her as Ingun gasped her last breath and Maven smiled.

“Hmm, interesting I say.”

She stood up and looked at the last bottle she held in her hands. A cold chill ran up her spine and gently caressed her.

A laugh erupted from between her lips and for a second Maven startled herself.

“Well, my dear, you certainly brewed a delightful potion. Now to advance my plans and get rid of that horrid red headed man, once and for all.”

He was crafty, that one. There would be no way he would come to the manor after his last little venture here. So, she needed to make sure that somehow the poison would get to him.

After a few moments of contemplation, she wondered if she should have it delivered to him in the guise of a bottle of mead and he could drink it without ever knowing who it was from. But that did not please her somehow, she _wanted_ him to know in his final moments that it was _she_ who had defeated him; there was no use in defeating your enemies was there if they had no clue as to whose hand slayed them. Besides, he would not be so ready to accept a bottle of mead that was delivered to him. No, it had to be something else; but what?

Maven’s eyes grew narrow as she thought on whom she could enlist to assist her; then she would pin the blame on them.  
Maven smiled as she decided who the unsuspecting assistant would be.  
She had grown tired lately of his lack of enthusiasm and his outright lack of salesmanship; he would do nicely and he would comply with what she required of him as he was already fearful of her. Taking care of two birds with one stone would be an enjoyable and effective way of advancing her schemes. Now all that was left was to convince him to do as she required.

Maven, mindful to step over Ingun, made for the stairs and ascended up to the dining area and past where Hemming still sat face down in his plate of food.

Another thought came to her as she walked by him; perhaps she could blame the deaths of both Hemming and Ingun on the red head. That it was Brynjolf who had orchestrated this whole nasty little scheme and in fact it had been her that he had been trying to poison. That somehow the scheme had failed and had resulted in the deaths of both Hemming and Ingun.

Perhaps if Brynjolf was out of the way, out of the picture that might just be enough for her to find some happiness. He certainly could not spend his sentence in Mistveil Keep’s jail because he could walk out. There were too many that owed him a favour. He would need to go somewhere where he would never see the light of day and Maven knew exactly where that would need to be; Cidhna Mine in Markarth-the toughest jail in Skyrim. No one escaped; no one was ever released. Maven laughed out loud; it was perfect. Brynjolf would be gone, the Thieves Guild would surely falter and Mercy, well she would be left on her own and would be vulnerable.

Maven jumped at the last thought of Mercy. Why would she think that? Then again, she was the spawn of Mercer Frey and she was Brynjolf’ pet was she not? She hated how the child had touched her robes so long ago, she seemed always to be underfoot and was a reminder of that man Mercer. Ah, this plan had extra benefits that she had not realized at first.

Now all she needed to do was set the plan in motion, but first she needed to set a few things right before she began.

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf leaned against the post of his stand. Apparently, someone had information that he might find interesting and they would only speak to him. They asked him to meet him here.  
Brynjolf wondered what the information could be; perhaps a contract that someone wanted taken care of and they only wanted him involved. He did not see anything peculiar about this at all. Many times in the past he had been sought out by individuals that wanted only to deal with him as they knew of his reputation.

It was not as if this was the Dark Brotherhood where one had to perform some dark ritual to summon the Night Mother. No, it was more straightforward where the Thieves Guild was concerned.

As Brynjolf watched the merchants close up shop and disperse to their homes or the Bee and Barb, he waited, whistling some tune he heard in one of the many inns he had visited during his travels.

Sniff and Edda wandered away down probably to Beggar’s Row. The guard’s wandered away from the plaza; it was time for shift change.

A shadowy figure on the other side of the plaza caught his attention as they stood in the shadows watching and waiting.

Brynjolf waited to see what their purpose was. Could this be the person that contacted him, or was this something else entirely?

The figure pulled at their hood, then, as the last of the guards moved away, they slipped from their hiding spot in the shadows and moved quickly across to Brynjolf.

“In here, we can talk in here in private. They should all have gone by now.”

Brynjolf jerked the hood back exposing Ungrien-the barkeep at Black-Briar Meadery.

“Please, do not let them see me. I fear for my life as it is. Come inside at once.”

Brynjolf followed Ungrien into the meadery where upon Ungrien shut the door, but not before peering out and looking around. He seemed extremely nervous.

Brynjolf leaned against the wall.

“Why are you contacting the Thieves Guild? What information do you have?” he inquired.

Ungrien turned to look at Brynjolf with his red eyes. “Please, inside, this is a rather delicate matter.”

Brynjolf did not like it, something was off about Ungrien. He was all too nervous looking around. What possible information could he have or why would he need the services of the Guild? Brynjolf shoved him against the wall once they were inside of the meadery and he held a dagger to his throat.

“You are going to tell me what is going on and you will tell me now!”

“If she finds out I told you… she will kill me. I only said I would go along with it because she threatened me. I do not want trouble. I don’t know what else to do. Here take this. You were supposed to drink it, or take it to her house, I’m not sure now what she wanted now you to do, I'm so scared, but don’t drink it, I think it is poison, I am sure of it. She was adamant that I give it to _you_ and you alone. Please, I don’t want to die, don’t kill me. I beg of you.”

Brynjolf took the bottle from Ungrien and uncorked the bottle of Black-Briar Reserve. He sniffed it and smelled nothing out of the ordinary, but in his experience he knew that poisons did not always announce themselves. His eyes narrowed and he offered it back to Ungrien. “You drink it and we will find out for sure if it _is_ poison.”

Ungrien squealed. “No! I tell you, she wanted _you_ to have it. I don’t know why, she told me if I said anything to _anyone_ she would have me taken out to Lake Honrich and I would be in there with the other four that came before me that could not do their job right. Brynjolf, you have to believe me. Maven Black-Briar is not a woman you want to cross.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “And I am a man; you do not want to cross either. Now tell me what she said!”

Ungrien shifted from foot to foot.

“Maven told me to give you that, and to make sure you took it. She was adamant about that. She was livid when she came and spoke to me; more liked yelled at me. I have never been so scared in my life. She told me that if I failed…”

Brynjolf cut him off. “Yes, you told me already, you would end up in Lake Honrich.”

Ungrien nodded. “And I believe her. She is a scary woman. She killed my four predecessors that worked behind the counter here. She terrifies me.”

Brynjolf thought that was an understatement. So, Maven wanted to kill him or was there some other scheme she had in mind. Well perhaps he should pay her a visit and give her the bottle of poisoned drink and see what she did. But something did not feel right about this entire scheme. Brynjolf looked at Ungrien.

“I want you to go back and tell Maven I drank the poison before you could stop me; that it is done and you are in need of help to remove my body. Do not cross me or I will personally end your life in such a manner that will be extremely painful, do you understand Ungrien? Do you understand!?”

Ungrien nodded, his eyes growing large. “I understand.”

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Ungrien ran along the walkway, then slipped to the rear of Maven’s house, mumbling to himself, wondering why he had ever come to this city, to Skyrim. Maybe things would have been better if he had stayed in Valenwood and had took to brother's business. He made a mental note to himself that if he survived this, he would leave Riften and go somewhere else and be mindful of whom he associated with.

He raised one unsteady hand to knock on the door, and then stood trembling as he waited for her to answer the door. He hoped that he could convince her or else he would never likely see the outside of her manor alive again. Either way, his choices had not been bleak. He hoped he had chosen wisely.

The door before Ungrien opened and he peered at Maven who did not seem the least happy to see him.

“And what do _you_ want? I thought I gave explicit instructions for you _not_ to return here. I do not want to be associated in _any_ way with what you were ordered to do.” Her eyes narrowed and her upper lip rose as if she were about to snarl. “Wait a moment, did you do it or are you _that_ inept at completing such an easy task? Oh, must I do _everything_ by myself?”

Ungrien stammered as he answered her. “Oh, it, it is done. I just want to know…what you want me to do…with his body.”

Maven turned her face to him and glared. Her mouth twisted and spittle flew from her lips as she spoke, her eyes flashing angrily.

“Ugh, you…you idiot! He drank it? He was not _supposed_ to drink it. I told you he was to have brought it here so I could, uh, never mind that! Of all the most frustrating… and now I have to deal with this? Could you not figure that out on _your_ own? Take his body and drop it in the lake, or in one of the vats. Why would I care what you do to him? Just do it. Get…rid…of…his…body!”

Ungrien wanted to laugh, but he kept his face still.

“Umm, I need help. He is a tad heavy.” Ungrien squeaked.

Maven threw her hands up in the air and gritted her teeth. “Must I _truly_ do everything by myself? Why is it that I cannot get _anyone_ , anyone with any amount of sense to do anything? This city is full of idiots! Oh very well, _go_ before anyone sees us. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Maven slammed the door shut in Ungriens' face and as she did he could hear her cursing behind it. He snorted as he ran back to the meadery to await her arrival. If he survived he was _definitely_ leaving.  
Brynjolf’s plan had better work or there would be more than one dead body to deal with when Maven finished.

 

~*~

 

Maven appeared, steaming and by the looks of her she was ready to kill Ungrien. She wore a heavy cape that covered her features and she kept to the shadows. She glared at Ungrien who stood by the door of the meadery waiting for her.

Ungrien raised a hand in a wave to her and she shot him a look of disdain.

“What are you _doing_ , you fool!? Trying to attract attention to me? Just open the door!”

Ungrien looked crestfallen and he mumbled an apology.

“Well, what are you standing there for, you idiot, open the door before someone comes along and sees us.”

Maven entered followed by Ungrien who then stood with his back against the door.

"Can you not light a candle?" She snapped at him.

The interior of the meadery was dark and Maven waited while Ungrien lit a candle on the counter.

Ungrien turned to face Maven and watched as the light cast shadows on her face and for a second she did not look like herself at all. Ungrien stared at her with his mouth open.

“Well, where is he?” She hissed. “All my plans are now laid to waste. He was to have come to the manor, to have brought me the poison. I was going to trap him. Well at least he is gone now. I guess this is just as good a plan as any. He probably would have escaped from Cidhna Mine anyways; probably had contacts in there as well as every other skeever infested hole in Skyrim.” She growled at Ungrien, who still stood with his mouth open staring at her, snapping him back to reality.

“When this is over, _you_ will be dealt with. I cannot have any loose ends lying about. Now where is he?”

Ungrien choked at what she said and pointed to behind the counter stammering.

“There! He…he is there.” His voice high and shrill.

Maven looked down at the floor and then behind the counter. She spun around to look at Ungrien.

“He isn’t here you imbecile, where in the Oblivion is his body?”

Ungrien stepped back from Maven bumping into the wall as he pointed behind her.

Brynjolf stepped through the door behind her with a broad smile on his face and then crossed his arms over his chest.

“Good evening, Maven.”

Maven’s eyes grew round and large as she spun around to face him and then she turned between Ungrien and Brynjolf. A look of absolute fury came across her face and her eyes flashed in anger.

“What is going on here, you stupid idiot? Ungrien, I thought you said he was dead? What are you doing? Are you daring to cross me? Do you not know of what I will do to you?”

Maven moved towards Ungrien who moved quickly out of the way to cower in the corner behind a table. Maven then went for the door and yanked it open but she was met with resistance when Delvin and Vex both stood blocking her way on the other side of the door.

“And where do you think you might be goin'?” Delvin asked with his hands on his hips.

Maven stepped back from them and turned swiftly to face Brynjolf.

“No one will believe you. It is your word against mine. Who is going to _believe_ you, over me? I hold more sway than what, a dirty thief? You have not won. You and your Guild, I will see it in ruins!”

Behind Brynjolf, there was a rustling noise as Anuriel appeared with two guards at her side. Her face said everything. She had heard the whole sordid story, straight from Maven’s lips.

Maven's face turned redder.

“Well Maven, who are you trying to do away with this time?”

Maven screeched as she flew at Brynjolf, stopping her nails from racking down his face and chest as he reached out and grasped both of her hands in his.

“Sorry lass, I have more important things to do then tend to you and your dastardly plans. I think you will be cooling your heels for a long time.”

“Never!” Maven screamed in his face. Her face contorted and for a second Brynjolf saw someone else appear before him; someone with amethyst eyes.

Maven kicked out at Brynjolf and managed to yank herself free of his grasp. From beneath her cape, Maven produced a small dagger that she brandished at those present.

Ungrien who was still cowering in the corner, fainted to the floor.

Maven lunged forward, slashing wildly with her dagger at Brynjolf's throat, who quickly moved to his right.

One of the guards tried to intercept her arm, but Maven stuck the dagger into his arm. He fell to the floor, clutching at the wound as blood seeped between his fingers.

Maven, now unarmed, sought a way past the other guard and Anuriel, but she was blocked. She quickly turned to move past Brynjolf and in her attempt to get away from the advancing guard that came towards her, his weapon leveled at her, turned and walked into Vex’s dagger who had come to stand beside Brynjolf.

Maven opened her mouth slightly, a queer look crossed her face in her realization that she had been stabbed. She looked down at the dagger protruding from her belly then she looked to Brynjolf, blinking in surprise.

“Shadows take you all.”

She collapsed to the floor of the meadery and lay still.

 

~*~

 

“We found the bodies of both Ingun and Hemming. It is horrible. They were both in the basement along with another body that she was using to contact the Dark Brotherhood.” Anuriel reported to Brynjolf as they watched the guards remove Maven's body from the meadery floor.

Brynjolf tore his eyes from the floor and focused his sight on Delvin.

Delvin cleared his throat as he shot Brynjolf a look. “I’ll take care o’ that boss, right away.”

Delvin scooted away and left Brynjolf with Vex and Anuriel.

“I don’t think there will be any trouble over her death. I am sure quite a few people, will be happy to know that she is no longer going to terrorize them. Perhaps now that she is gone, Riften might change for the better.” Anuriel said as she rubbed a hand through her hair nervously.

Brynjolf folded his arms over his chest and peered at her. “I guess I owe you a favour, for your help. You know the Guild takes care of its own.”

Anuriel nodded. “And I will collect on it, sometime.”

Anuriel left the meadery and Vex came to stand beside Brynjolf.

“She went raving mad.” She issued softly.

Brynjolf rubbed at his face. “Aye, that she did lass, but I don’t think she was herself because someone else was controlling her.”

Vex scoffed. “Who?”

Brynjolf turned to the blonde Imperial and laid one hand on her shoulder.

“It was Karliah. I saw her in Maven. I saw her amethyst eyes.”

Vex opened her mouth to speak and closed it. With all that had been happening lately, Vex was sure that anything could be possible.

Brynjolf was weary.  
If this was already complicated now it was even more so. If Karliah could overtake someone and control them, then who was to say that she did not overtake him and have him cause harm to Mercy? Brynjolf moved out of the meadery into the night air and sucked in the cool air.

“I think I need to talk to Mercer.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Mercer Frey stood leaning in the far corner of his office, watching Mercy as she sat at his desk. Her head was down and it appeared as if she was heavily engrossed in something, but from where he stood he could not see what it was.  
He shifted forward a bit, straining to see what it was that had her so captivated.  
He wanted desperately to appear to her, but he was afraid he would terrify her. He had watched her several times now and each time he struggled with what he wanted to do. He watched with pride swelling in his chest at the sight of her now, of what she was becoming. He was worried though, the path that she was on was leading her onto dangerous grounds; these dealings with Karliah were deadly. He feared that she would meet the same fate as he did.

Karliah was not to be trifled with, she was unpredictable and Mercer was used to dealing with the predictable. He had liked being in control of the outcome; but that was when he had no one else relying on him, or no one that he had truly cared about.

He focused his attention back on Mercy. She was of his flesh and blood. Though he had not been there, as she grew, there was a bond. Even though he had never been able to manifest himself in this way he had now been permitted to, he could always sense her presence. They were tied to each other; father and daughter.

He moved closer, to see what it was that she was doing, when he saw what she had in her hand, he gasped, drawing his breath in sharply: so she had found it.

It was the Skeleton Key.

She held it in her small hands, turning it this way and that, watching as it caught the light, completely mesmerized by the detail on the handle, just as he had been.  
He knew the power the Key held within and he did not want her to be corrupted like he had been.

A foreboding feeling crept around him as he focused on what he should do; he decided quickly and he reached out one hand and touched his daughter’s cheek.

Mercy jumped, dropping the key to the floor where it bounced away into the corner.

“Who are you?’ Her voice was filled with fear as she turned to face him.

“Mercy, I have watched you from the shadows since you were born. You look like your mother, Gynni. You are truly a beautiful woman.”

Mercy’s eyes grew wide at the apparition before her and her mouth opened slightly and fainted.

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf patted her hand. “Mercy, wake up lass.”

Mercy opened her eyes and instantly stiffened. Her eyes then darted around the room, as she sat up, looking for the apparition that she had witnessed earlier.

“Someone or something was here earlier and they spoke to me. I was scared.”

Brynjolf held her and stroked her hair. “Do you know who it was?” He inquired hoping that it was Mercer and not Karliah.

“I’m not sure; it had a man’s voice. He was shimmering in blue, I felt cold when he touched my cheek. He said I look like my mother.”

Brynjolf sighed. He had wondered how long it would be before Mercer decided to appear to his daughter. Brynjolf was hoping it would have been later, once he had more of a clearer idea as to what was happening.

“I think I know who it was, Mercy and you might find this hard to believe.”

Mercy wriggled out of his arms to face him and stared at him. “Who was it?”

Brynjolf inhaled through his mouth then began. “It was your father, Mercer, trying to contact you, Mercy. I have been dreaming of him. Not only him, but there is another. She is dangerous and she is the one that took his life.”

Mercy sat stunned for a moment then she shook her head. “No it can’t be. Why, why is he contacting me after all this time? Why is he contacting you Bryn? What does he want?”

Brynjolf stood and pulled Mercy to her feet. “That is what we have been trying to figure out. He mentioned something about a key but he didn’t finish telling me anymore than that. I think it has something to do with Nocturnal too.”

Mercy walked to the corner of the office and bent to retrieve the Skeleton Key from the floor. As she turned to face him with the Skeleton Key in her hand, his eyes widened as it saw it and before he could ask her where she had found it, he noticed that she paled and her eyes own widened, staring past him.

Brynjolf turned in time to see an apparition appear and it moved towards him.

Screaming at Mercy, it changed direction and moved swiftly towards her, but Brynjolf intercepted it.  
He shoved Mercy to the floor as the shimmering blue apparition attacked.

It screamed as it lifted and threw chairs, that smashed into the walls and then Mercer's desk was shoved in the direction of Mercy.

"Dodge this!" It laughed chillingly.

Brynjolf stepped into its path and took the full assault of the desk in his side, his leg buckling under him as he shoved Mercy further back out of the way. He found he was pinned behind it against the wall.

The apparition laughed coldly. "Poor Brynjolf, you're even slower now."

He struggled until he was free of the desk then moved towards Mercy.

“Brynjolf, look out!” Mercy cried out as the apparition moved again directly towards him.

He was hit in the chest and sent flying backwards into the wall, lying stunned for a moment; then he was picked up, lifted from the floor, his feet kicking out at it. A cold hand around his throat, it squeezed. Laughter filled the air; cold and disturbing. The apparition appeared to him as clear as day before him for a brief second and he saw the amethyst eyes again; it was Karliah.

"I bring death from the shadows!" She taunted him as she squeezed his throat cutting off his oxygen.

From beside Mercy another apparition appeared and this one came to stand in front of her, shielding her.

Karliah screamed in its direction. “NO! You cannot help them! I will kill him and her!”

“No, you won’t, Karliah. I won’t let you harm either of them.” Mercer appeared brighter and clearer.

Brynjolf was dropped to the ground as Karliah approached Mercer.

Mercy looked at Mercer as he moved towards what she took was to be Karliah. He wrapped his arms around her and they both disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Mercy ran to Brynjolf who was slowly getting to his feet. He leaned on her for support.

“It was him; that was my father. He saved us both.” She spoke quietly, her body shaking in fear.

Brynjolf nodded as Mercy wrapped her arms around Brynjolf. “Aye lass, it was.”

 

~*~

 

“How long have you had this?” He inquired of her softly.

Brynjolf held the Skeleton Key in his hands, turning it over. He could feel the faint hum underneath its surface. The same hum he had felt when he had touched the sword in the vault at the Cistern weeks ago. It was as if it were alive.  
As he held the Key in his hand, Nocturnal’s voice came as a whisper to him.

“Now return it to me.”

 

~*~

 

Mercer leaned heavily upon the stone pillar, his strength was ebbing. When he had appeared in Riftweald Manor to stop Karliah he had used up most of his energy.  
How he was able to form so clearly he was not sure. Did it have something to do with the Key? Perhaps it had something to do with Mercy.  
He looked around the darkened chamber, where Karliah was now, he could not say for certain but he knew she would not be far. He had interfered with her plans. He was sure that she would attack Mercy again, or try for Brynjolf.  
He wondered if the Skeleton Key had drawn her out of the shadows, or had she been seeking revenge on  Brynjolf and now was focused on Mercy too?  
Mercer had learned from Gallus, that once the Key was returned that they would move on to where they were destined, their final resting place; to become one with the shadows.  
Mercer was looking forward to resting; he was tired.  
Did Karliah not want to go? And if not, why? What fate awaited her?

Mercer watched as Gallus approached him, he was weary, his energy was almost depleted. His time here was drawing to a close and if he did not make it to where their final resting place was, he might be forever lost to wander alone in the dark of some plane of existence or simply not exist anymore.

Mercer stood pulling himself up straight. He had to go back he had to help Brynjolf and Mercy. They had to go to Nightingale Hall and talk to Nocturnal then to travel to where it had begun for the Key he was sure wished to go home and home it would go if Mercer had a say in it. Then hopefully he could move on to where he belonged.


	14. Chapter 14

Brynjolf stood looking down at the Skeleton Key, in the palm of his clammy hand and waited; waited for Nocturnal to give him some hint as to what he was supposed to do. He studied the Key, wondering what was so important about it.

Questions ran through his weary mind and he doubted he would be given the answers to them.  
Why had Mercer stolen it in the first place? How had Mercy come to possess it? Where had it been all those seventeen years?  
He had no clue as to how this worked or what the possible end was going to be. The possibilities were closed to him and he did not like being blind to it.  
It was not a situation that a thief liked to be in; not a situation that he liked to be in.

If he had listened to the voices inside his head, before they had left the walls of Riften, he would have surely turned at the entrance and would have gone back to the Ragged Flagon and ignored this nasty business.

But he could not do that, could he? He sighed again wondering what he had stumbled into.

He had Mercy to think of and he would not shirk his responsibility, no matter how hard this became. Besides, Mercer had appeared, later that previous evening, and had told him to come here, to this place.  
Brynjolf had tried to question him, about what had happened with Karliah, but Mercer had ignored that, stating that he must go to Nightingale Hall and speak to Nocturnal, that was what was of importance now.

Brynjolf sighed heavily, running a hand through his red locks. He had thought when Karliah had died in Snow Veil Sanctum that it had been the end of her.  
Yet here she was, attacking them.  
As soon as this Key was returned to Nocturnal, it was done and he did not want to hear of it ever again.

He glanced over at Mercy, who was standing with her hands clasped in front of her, watching him with wide doe eyes.  
Her trust lay in him and he realized that.  
In that moment she really reminded him of her mother, Gynni.  
Brynjolf felt a twinge of guilt at his thinking only of himself. He had never thought as to how  she was feeling during all this.  
He could not imagine how she must have felt being thrust into this, seeing her father, or rather the ghost of her father and then his killer appear from beyond the grave.  
Brynjolf shook his head; he did not understand this at all.

He was glad the lass was not knowledgeable on the severity of the situation that lay ahead of them, that would come soon enough he was sure.  
In the meantime, he would do what he could to shield her from any harm, even if that meant giving his life for hers.

He thought of Nocturnal; and knew he did not want to cross a daedra; their malevolence was not limited by their pleasure in creating havoc. And to be truthful, he had not heard of them doing good for anyone lately, out of any sort of compassion, for anyone other than themselves.  
That seemed to ring true in his case too. When had he, a thief, done anything that benefited anyone else except himself? It had always been think of yourself first.  
Maybe there was a change approaching, he thought to himself, as he glanced back at Mercy.  
And hopefully that change would be on the good side of luck and not the bad.

 

~*~

 

Mercy was looking around the chamber they were in.  
She had felt uncomfortable returning here, after her last venture here, but this was where Mercer had told Brynjolf to come; that they had to talk to Nocturnal. She trusted in the fact that Brynjolf knew what he was doing and she felt that she could trust her father; Mercer.

That thought struck her as being strange. Her father. He was dead and yet somehow he was communicating with her.  
She was curious about her father and had consistently asked Brynjolf questions throughout the night about him and about Nocturnal and this Karliah.  
She wanted to know the truth, not the fabricated story, that she now felt, had been told to shield her from any harm.  
She was not naive and was no child.

Brynjolf had avoided some questions all together, by trying to distract with telling her to go to sleep, but she persisted until he had finally given in.  
In the end he had told her of all that he had known of Karliah, Mercer and of her mother and what had befallen them that day in Snow Veil Sanctum.  
The story had been one of sadness, betrayal and love and death.  
Mercy understood why she had been not told the truth, but now, she was glad that she knew even if it pained her.

As she looked over at Brynjolf, standing by the wall, the key in his hands, he smiled warmly at her as he met her gaze.  
She could see something else was underneath his smile and she felt for the first time apprehensive.  
Brynjolf was usually so in control and it looked to be he was out of his depths in this situation.

As Brynjolf returned to studying the Key, its edges and its nob; Mercy moved towards the three stone blocks that stood on the dais and studied them for a moment.  
It was odd that these would be placed here and she wondered to what purpose they served.

She reached out one hand hesitantly and touched the block with the symbol of the bird holding the moon above its head, between its wings.

The stone was cool and smooth and it hummed underneath her fingers as she traced the bird and she found herself becoming light-headed and drowsy.

Off in the distance, she thought she heard Brynjolf speaking to her, but it seemed so far away and she did not know if he had or hadn’t spoken.  
In her ear she heard another voice, speaking clearly to her and in her mind she answered it.

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf pocketed the Key and squatted down then turned to look back at Mercy.

Brynjolf looked up at Mercy and watched as what unfolded before him brought him back to the nightmare he had.

“Mercy, no lass!” Brynjolf tried to stand but found he could not. He struggled against invisible bonds that now gripped him, as he watched on horrified.

A dark shadow appeared, floating above Mercy for a second before finally settling over her, encompassing her from head to toe. Mercy slumped to the ground and lay still for what seemed an eternity.

Brynjolf shouted her name over and over, still struggling to free himself from whoever or whatever was holding him.

After a few moments, Mercy gasped and opened her eyes and sat up and peered over at Brynjolf.

Her eyes were glowing blue, the same color that they had been in his nightmare.  
Brynjolf shivered as he watched, unable to do anything.

Mercy rolled to her knees then stood up, her eyes returning to their normal color.

Brynjolf was finally released and he rushed forward, wary to touch her. “By the divines, lass, what happened?” He demanded of her.

Mercy held her hands out in front of her admiring the black inky armor that clung to her body.

“It is done.” A disembodied voice sounded in the chamber belonging to Nocturnal.

“What in the Oblivion have you done to her?” Brynjolf demanded angrily.

Nocturnal laughed. “She is fine. I have given her my armor; the armor of a Nightingale. Now it is your turn. Touch the block, Brynjolf.”

“I will not!” Brynjolf exploded angrily. His fear gripping him.

“Very well then, touch it not, but you will eventually concede to me Brynjolf, one way or another.” Nocturnal laughed.

Brynjolf hesitated looking at Mercy. His mind returned to the nightmare he had and he was unable to escape the chilling feeling that traveled up his spine.

Mercy laid a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Touch it, Brynjolf. It will be alright.”

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf kept touching his armor and marveling how something could be so light. It clung to his body like a second skin.  
He was used to wearing his leathers and no matter how supple they were, they did not even come close in comparison to these.  
As he flexed his arms and legs, bending this way and that, testing the armor, he looked over at Mercy.

Mercy giggled as she watched him from where she stood on her pedestal.

“You must return the Skeleton Key to where it came from, to the Twilight Sepulcher. You will do this and set right what must be set on the proper path.”

Nocturnal stopped speaking for a moment. “Is something amusing?” Nocturnal asked annoyed.

“Sorry lass, it’s just that I cannot believe this armor is so light and yet it will protect me.”

Nocturnal sighed. “It will protect you, but you must still use your talents; you do have those don’t you, Brynjolf?”

Brynjolf broke into a wide beaming smile. “Aye lass, that's why I'm the best."

“We shall see won’t we, Brynjolf? Your cockiness will only get you so far. But, since there are only two of you present and I require three Nightingales to do my bidding, I need a third. But wait, I sense a presence hovering close to you. Step out into the light and join us.”

Brynjolf’s hand moved down to his dagger at his side, as he turned to face the darkness, prepared for whoever appeared.

A blue light appeared in the recesses of the darkness, at the edge of the pedestal, upon which Brynjolf stood and then someone moved forward, brushing past him towards the center of the chamber.

Brynjolf recognized the familiar form and relaxed his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

It was Mercer Frey and as he walked towards the vacant pedestal, Brynjolf turned to look at Mercy.

As Mercer stepped onto the pedestal, the blue light surrounding him grew stronger then slowly ebbed as he began to form as solid as if he were of flesh and blood and bone.

Brynjolf shuddered; this was more than he could comprehend.  
He had seen Mercer die and had been present when his body was buried in the graveyard outside of the hidden entrance to the Guild. But yet, here he was, looking as if he had returned from some job.  
Death was meant to be permanent.  
Again, the daedra played with life for their amusement and this time, Brynjolf was sure there would be far reaching consequences.

Mercy gasped from where she stood as she watched on. To see her father become real before her eyes, it was perhaps too much to have hoped for.

"Now you are three and it is time for you to go and complete this task for me. Fail me not for the consequences of your actions may have far reaching results that even I will not be able to change. Complete this task and with haste. Do this and in return you will have my favor." Nocturnal issued to them.

Brynjolf shook his head.

Bloody Nightingales and bloody Nocturnal; he would be even more glad when this was done.

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

They climbed aboard the horse cart, bound for Falkreath, to where they would then travel on foot to The Twilight Sepulcher and to where they would return the Skeleton Key and hopefully bring about the end to this nightmare.

They traveled in silence, for the most part, each of them deep in thought as to what they would face and perhaps because of what had been revealed to them.

Sitting in the cart, as it swayed over the rougher sections of the pitted and muddy roads, through the darkness, then on into the early dreary morning light, lent nothing to the mood of the travelers.

Brynjolf did not know what to say to Mercer and nor did Mercer know on what to speak to Brynjolf in regards to.  
As he sat in silence, he thought of what ramifications were now unleashed that Mercer was apparently returned from the dead. His main concern was of that for Mercy and what it might possibly mean to her to have her father in her life. He then thought of what it would mean, for himself, if Mercer Frey had returned from beyond the grey shroud of death.  
Brynjolf shoved the feelings that crept up into his throat, down into the pit of his stomach.  
Now was not the time to be thinking of himself. He could not admit that he was jealous; that would be selfish.

The one thing, the two men had in common, was sitting across from them, watching with veiled eyes and a smile planted firmly on her face.  
She was what was important and they both knew that.

Mercy spoke up after a few minutes after studying the two men. “You are both important to me. I hope you know that. I don’t want there to be any confusion regarding that. I know this will be difficult for you, but I regard you equally as my father.” Then she lapsed into silence.

Brynjolf felt his face redden, as if he had had his hand caught in someone's pocket and realized that his thoughts had given themselves away to Mercy.  
He turned to face Mercer and raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for the taunting that they had once shared in a past life to begin again. Their relationship in the past had been strained and they had never regarded each other as friends, only as what they had been; Guild Master and his second-in-command.  
Brynjolf had always thought of Mercer as a hard ass that was cold and calculating and when they had given chase to him, when they feared he had kidnapped and meant to kill Gynni, it had only further fueled Brynjolf’s opinion of Mercer that he was an extremely dangerous man.

Mercer in turn had thought Brynjolf to be lazy and not to have taken his position within the Guild serious. He saw him as a cad and an obstruction to his way to running the Guild in the manner that he saw fit and the eventual downfall of it.

Brynjolf nodded as he looked at his former Guild Master. Aye, it would be an interesting arrangement now.

Mercy was shivering, her teeth beginning to chatter, she moved over and sat between the two men, huddling between them in an attempt to warm herself.  
She leaned into Brynjolf who wrapped one arm around her shoulders.  
One of her hands stole out and took Mercers' and she held fast to it.

Mercer sat in silence, seemingly not affected at all by any of what was around him. How he was able to hold to this world, he did not know, but he decided that it had to do with Nocturnal. For what it was worth he was glad. He knew it would not last for long, but he would take what he was given, if it meant spending any time with Mercy.  
On occasion Mercy, had glanced at him, perhaps too afraid to speak to the man that had a hand in her creation; yet from what Mercer could see, from her expression, she longed to ask him questions.  
He could understand why she would find it hard to speak to him on any subject. How could one feel comfortable around someone that had apparently returned from the dead, even if it was your father.

It was Brynjolf who broke the deafening silence. 

“Mercer,” he began, “where were you, or are you?”

Mercer turned and focused his eyes on Brynjolf then they flickered down towards Mercy who was leaning into him.

“I am not entirely sure where I was, but I am, was in some dark place. In front of some entrance that is shut. I think it is the doorway through to where I am to go, when we pass on. I am not alone. Gallus is with me, but he is weak and grows weaker the longer he is trapped here. She, she is here too.”

Mercy lifted her head at his words. “My mother?” She inquired hopefully.

Mercer shook his head and he looked at his daughter. “No, she is not here. It is the one that sent me here; the one that is haunting you and Brynjolf; Karliah. She was once a Nightingale, like what you have become and what I was. She came and joined the Thieves Guild a long time ago; at one point we were close, but then something horrible happened and she blamed me for it and she, well, she lost her way and was consumed with madness.”

“She is the one who killed you.” Mercy spoke angrily.

Mercer nodded at his daughter. “Yes, she did but your mother killed her, to save you.”

Mercy half-smiled at her father. “She was brave.”

Brynjolf interrupted. “And you will need to be brave too Mercy, for us to finish this.”

Mercy swung around to face Brynjolf. “I’m not afraid.”

Mercer leaned forward; catching hold of Mercy’s gloved hand in his and stared into Mercy’s eyes. “You should be Mercy, you should be.”

 

~*~

 

Falkreath, sat amongst tall, old growth pine trees, surrounded by lush green, gentle slopping hills that lead up to the mist covered mountains.  
It was in direct contrast to the color of the town, with its dismal appearing buildings and even more dismal citizens.  
A constant fog seemed to hang over the small town and it lent itself, to the already eerie feeling, which was reflected by the names of the businesses within the town. It seemed that death was ever present here.  
The bleak graveyard itself was a sight to see, with rows upon rows of headstones, carefully standing erect, ever watchful over those who lay at their feet.  
Death Bells grew in abundance in clumps around the headstones and the overseer of the graveyard himself was a somber man.

Brynjolf wondered if any of its inhabitants were going to rise and join them on their journey. He stole a glance at Mercer, who smiled at him, as if he knew what Brynjolf was thinking.

Wolves could be heard in the distance, howling to one another and black birds cried in the trees overhead; all lending to the feeling that this town was not quite alive.

It set Brynjolf’s already-frayed nerves jumping. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body, in an attempt to ward off the chill that seemed to take hold of him in its clutches.  
He hoped that it was not an ill omen.

 

~*~

 

They watched from the side of the road, as the horse and cart disappeared through the heavy rain that now had developed fervently trying to soak through their cloaks, but whatever the armor they wore was derived from, it kept the wet at bay.

Mercer began walking towards a small path through the trees then he paused as he looked over his shoulder at Brynjolf and Mercy.

“If I could have known then, what I know now, I would have not done what I did. If I had known it was going to cost me  those I loved and my life, I never would have been so blatantly irrational and selfish. I would have taken what I had and walked away.”

Mercy stepped forward and clasped his hand. “Then I would not have been born and never would have met you.”

Mercer peered down into her face and felt the pain of what he had done stab him ever deeper. He had been the one who had robed Mercy of a future that would have been far better for her than that of the one she now faced.

Brynjolf looked away at the private moment that father and daughter were sharing. He did not want to intrude so he moved further ahead of them, leaving them to speak together.

Mercer looked at his daughter and saw Gynni reflected in her face. He did not see any of himself and he was glad for he knew that he had not any good to have given her.  
He had been selfish and cold and calculating, thinking only of what he could find in every deal to further line his ambition.  
But Gynni had changed that for him; she had given him hope, and then she had given him her love and through that love-Mercy.For that he would not have changed anything. Here standing before him was his salvation. The only good thing he had done and for that he was grateful and would do whatever he could to ensure her safety.

He looked ahead to where Brynjolf walked by himself and he thought he should thank the man for doing a good job raising Mercy. He was not jealous of Brynjolf in any way; in fact he was grateful that Gynni had asked Brynjolf to raise her. Though he would not admit it and probably never would, he thought that Brynjolf was a good man for such an undertaking.  
Mercer knew at one point that Brynjolf had his own feelings for Gynni and for her to have chosen himself rather than Brynjolf, to be honest, that must have stung.

“We better get a move on if we are ever going to get there.” Mercer spoke softly to Mercy and they moved to catch up with Brynjolf.

 

~*~

 

They had arrived; to the place where it had begun.

Mercer stood for a moment looking around. He had returned to where it had begun.

Brynjolf had surged ahead closer to the iron door. He shoved at it and it opened with ease. “I didn’t expect that, I thought we would need the Key to open it.”

He turned and looked past Mercer to where Mercy was standing a little behind them. “Lass, what is wrong?”

She stood staring at the stone pillars, the waterfall to her left and to the little stream that ran a few inches from her boots. “I...I have been here. I have been here...in a dream." Mercy's face paled. "I don’t want to go inside.” She stammered as she began to back away. “I don’t want to go in there.”

Mercer got to her first before she could turn tail and bolt. He held her by the arms gently, calmly speaking to her. “It will be fine Mercy, Brynjolf and I am here. We will protect you.”

Mercy stammered. “But who is going to protect you?”

 

~*~

 

Brynjolf, a look of puzzlement and concern on his face, looked to Mercer and he in return looked at him. “What did you see inside, Mercy?” He inquired of her.

Mercy lowered her hood, revealing her large eyes. She stared at the open door as she recalled her dream.

Inside and past the sentinel that stood guard at the door was the myriad of twisting paths that lead through darkness and madness to the place where the Skeleton Key wished to be returned. But it was not that that Mercy feared. It was what lay in the darkness that could not yet be seen. The cold whisper of a fate that had sought her out and as she now realized what it was it terrified her. It was a cold hand that reached for her from behind her as she moved slowly and painstakingly along the corridors, past the traps set for those who dared to venture here.  
Then to evade those and to reach the way that would test even those with the greatest endurance; until they made it to the final drop that brought you to face the daedra known as Nocturnal.

No there was more to the dream and the one thing that she recalled, now standing here with the two men, that she counted both as her father, was terrifying and what she feared the most.

It was the final image she saw before she awoke from the nightmare. It were those eyes, amethyst eyes; the eyes of Karliah.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Brynjolf took Mercy gently by the shoulders, turning her to face him and he looked down upon her face. He could see the fear there, under the surface, as she desperately tried to hold it back. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead gently.

“Mercy, I know you are scared, lass, and truth be told, so am I. But we need to finish this and I promise you, I will let no harm befall you as long as I draw breath into my body.” He hesitated for a second, as some dark thought crept into his mind. He shoved it away, not wanting to acknowledge it, for if he did then he would surely accept a fate that he was not yet ready for. “I am sure that your father feels the same way.”

Brynjolf lifted his head and looked over at Mercer who stood by silently, watching the two of them. Brynjolf released Mercy's shoulders and watched her walk towards Mercer.

Mercer strode forward and pulled Mercy into his arms, surrounding her with his love for her. If he could have changed what needed to be done, he would have. He blamed himself again and wished there was some other way to finish this dark business, but he knew there was not. Mercy was a part of this unfortunately and he would do whatever he could to make sure she survived this. He knew that facing the darkness within was nothing in comparison to the possibility of meeting Karliah here and dealing with her ongoing madness and hatred for him and those of his lineage.

“There is nothing we cannot face as long as we face it together.” He spoke softly to her, unsure if his words brought her any comfort.

Mercy clung to her father and then pushed away from him, straightening her armor.

She turned and smiled at Brynjolf then strode, with feigned confidence, towards the iron door of the Twilight Sepulcher and disappeared through the dark opening.

 

~*~

 

Behind the black iron doors, they followed a twisting passageway that was lit by a few sconces that afforded them barely enough light to see by. Carefully they trod on, in case of traps were awaiting their misstep. Each step bringing them closer to what fate they did not know. Mercer knew this place and what lay within and he only hoped that this time would be as easy for them as it had been for him the first time he had come here.

Eventually they reached a large chamber, where mighty stone pillars stood, some broken from time, while others still stood erect far reaching above their heads, disappearing into the blackness of the chamber overhead.

Six large braziers, cast their light, which did not quite reach the darkened corners and gave rise to the question to what lay watching their approach. Ahead of them, a single blue form stood waiting at the bottom of a bank of stairs that lead up to a darkened maw that resembled a huge mouth waiting to swallow them.

Mercy stopped in her tracks and pointed at the blue form and whispered to Brynjolf as Mercer moved ahead of them. “It is Gallus Deciduous, the former Guild Master.”

Brynjolf wondered how she knew that as she had never seen him, unlike Brynjolf, who had known the man a short time during his reign as Guild Master. He shook his head and cast aside the question. There were things afoot that he did not want to know.

Gallus greeted Mercer before the staircase and motioned to the others behind him to come forth. Brynjolf and Mercy approached and stood quietly while Gallus spoke of what lay ahead.

“I see the Key has been found, well done. Once you return it, all should be as it should be. It is long past the time for our paths to be set right, Mercer.”

Mercer nodded his head. “We will return it Gallus and finally lay to rest this nightmare we are trapped in.”

 

~*~

 

The three Nightingales moved cautiously up the stairs towards the darkened maw and into a short passageway that lead to a chamber with a walkway that encircled a lower level. On the lower level, down a flight of stairs, lined with candles, they could see a large bird statue, guarding an entrance, to what, Brynjolf wondered, possibly lay behind.

At one side, of the upper walkway, they could see bookcases hidden in darkened recesses and at the other side was an opening, where a flickering light could be seen from a fire.   
Curiosity took hold of Brynjolf and as he moved towards it he was greeted by a blue Sentinel that approached, growling at his intrusion.

“You do not belong here!”

The blue Sentinel charged forward with bow and arrow at the ready but from behind Brynjolf, Mercy yelled for him to duck as Mercer leapt over him and sank his blade into the chest of the Sentinel causing it to disappear into a pool of blue glowing plasma.

Brynjolf nodded his thanks to Mercer who in return moved closer to him.

Before he could speak, a second Sentinel appeared at the bottom of the candle lit stairs and it rushed up towards them; its bow raised towards Mercy who leveled hers towards it and she quickly released an arrow that soared to its mark. Brynjolf and Mercer both moved in tandem and caught it off guard as it moved towards Mercy, dispatching it with a few strokes of their blades.

Mercer sheathed his sword and turned to Brynjolf. “Don’t be thieving in here. It will cost you your life and our plans. I won’t warn you again.” He snarled at Brynjolf.

Brynjolf stiffened at his words, not liking being spoken to in the manner in which Mercer had. “I was not thieving, as you so eloquently put it. After all, Mercer, I doubt there would be anything left of value to take. You did steal the Key from here, did you not?”

Mercer backed away and snorted. “Nocturnal should have found someone that would have taken this serious, instead of a second-rate thief.”

“I am just as…”

“Stop it you two, we have to work together.” Mercy snapped at them. “Now is not the time to be arguing about who is the better thief.”

“Aye, the lass is right. We have to work together, Mercer. So let us do that eh?” Brynjolf conceded cockily.

Mercer smiled coldly. “I can if you will, Brynjolf.”

 

~*~

 

They moved on, past their differences and past the great bird statue that stood before the opening to the passageway behind it and discovered a pressure plate on the floor, that if set off, would release poison darts that could bring even the strongest of wanderers down.

Ahead, they could see a Sentinel, alerted to their intrusion, standing with its hands on its hips, waiting for those who dared to confront it. They approached it silently but it still noticed their presence and bore arms against them. It fought with bow and arrow and a fierceness that chilled even Mercer to the bone. They succeeded with great effort and no injury to any of them.

These Sentinels had once been Nightingales and now, since they too were trapped here, shut off from the energy of Nocturnal and the Ebonmere, they had changed and had lost what they had once been.

Mercer acknowledged this and wondered if this too would be his fate and also if this was what had happened to Karliah since her death. It was a fate he did not wish to share, so he urged the others to hurry.

They moved past walls lined with alcoves for the dead that were mostly empty save for the odd skeleton. On through the tunnels and passageways they continued, feeling elated at the fact that they were approaching now, without interference from the Sentinels, what Brynjolf and Mercy thought would soon be the end. 

Iron doors came into view and Mercer held up one hand, stopping them in their tracks. “Through here lays a path that it is dangerous, in the fact that both light and shadow hold each their own mysteries. I kept to the shadows when I came here, but I always had the feeling that I was being watched. I suggest you go slowly and do not even stray the slightest from the path that I lead you on. To do so would surely put all of us at risk and put our quest to an end.”

 

~*~

 

They stood canvassing the chamber that opened past the iron doors. A chamber filled with light and shadow and mists that moved slowly over the ground like fingers searching for something to grasp to. From their vantage point, they could see several raised daises and as they could see the path of shadow that they were to hold to.

“Looks easy enough; just stay in the shadows. How hard can that be?” Brynjolf quipped.

Mercer turned to him and pointed for him to watch. Mercer held his hand out into the light and there arose from his hand a plume of smoke. “If you dare to step into the light then, that be your fate.” He looked past Brynjolf to where Mercy stood and he nodded.

As they stepped through the door, Brynjolf suddenly found himself shivering. A cold presence seemed to wrap itself around him and would not let go as he descended down the stairs, following Mercer’s footsteps one by one.

He paused and looked at Mercy. As she smiled at him, he was overcome with the same dark thoughts he had outside of the Sepulcher… but he would not acknowledge it again and he shook it aside and returned to watching Mercer’s steps.   
Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something move and he raised his dagger in defense.

“Brynjolf, what is it?” Mercy inquired.

He looked again and saw nothing but the light and shadows merging into one. “It’s nothing lass, it must just be my mind playing tricks on me.” His voice sounding unsure if it were a trick or not.

Against the edge of the first raised daises that loomed in the chamber, they saw the bodies of two unfortunate souls that had obviously strayed from the path; their bodies charred by the light. That gave pause to Brynjolf, who took Mercer’s warnings as that exactly; to stay in the shadow and not venture into the light. It was not a fate he wished to share with those that had perished.

They moved slowly to the first dais and advanced up the stone stairs. At the top, barely visible to their eyes was a thin trip wire stretching across the top riser. Mercer motioned for Brynjolf to cut it and as he did, he heard the whistle of darts as they flew past him landing nowhere near them.

“I was not jesting about the dangers we face.” Mercer firmly said.

Brynjolf grumbled under his breath.

They crossed the top of the dais in shadow to the path that lead down and again saw the thin trip wire stopping them in their tracks. Mercer stepped over this one and motioned for the others to do the same.

They continued down the stairs and moved along the path under the cover of shadow until they reached the next dais and strode slowly up it to the next trip wire. Mercy took the lead this time and cut the wire then waited until the twin path of darts had finished their attempt at reaching them.

As they moved over the dais, Brynjolf felt a cold chill creeping up on him again and thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to look at what it was, this time he caught the glimpse of a hooded figure in the shadows behind him. He raised his dagger and the others turned in time to see it rush out of the darkness and shove him towards the light.

The air was filled with the stench of burning armor and Brynjolf let out a yelp of pain as the light seared through the armor to his flesh.

He rolled back, into the shadow, to be confronted by a blade that sank deep into his arm and the sound of a hiss, and then came the voice he knew.

“Thought you could get past me did you, Brynjolf? Come, taste darkness's embrace!”

Brynjolf looked up into the hooded face of Karliah as she stood over him. The dark thoughts he had shoved away earlier now rushing through his mind and this time he had to acknowledge them and what they ultimately meant.  
His fear was mirrored on the face of Mercy as she watched frozen in fear as Karliah bent down and clutched Brynjolf by the neck of his cuirass.

“Karliah, when will _you_ learn, you can't get the drop on me?” Mercer rushed forward, his weapon ready and he swing it in her direction catching her arm before she could sink her weapon into Brynjolf’s chest and sending her reeling away.

Mercy now freed from her fear, rushed forward, bow and arrow ready, but her effort was swatted away by Karliah who bared her teeth at her as she danced around Mercy to stab at Mercer. “The shadows will be your undoing!” Karliah spat at him as her blade barely missed his neck.

"Too slow as usual, Karliah!" Mercer taunted her as the two of them circled each other.

Brynjolf took the opportunity of her distraction, with Mercer, to move closer in hopes that he could shove Karliah into the light. He threw his weight into her but she was too quick for him, stepping aside at the last second and turning quickly which allowed her blade to sink into his shoulder and she shoved him back into the light. Again, the smell of burning armor filled their nostrils.

Mercy screamed as she rushed forward, desperately snatching at his cloak and she pulled on it trying to drag him back into the shadows.

She was thwarted in her efforts as she was grabbed from behind by Karliah, her one arm snaking around Mercy's neck, beginning to choke the life from her, another hand held a knife leveled at her waist. “You will suffer the same fate as your father and Brynjolf too!”

Karliah moved quickly between shadow and light and dragged Mercy into the full light where she screamed as the light began to burn her and Karliah disappeared into the shadows.

Mercer launched himself into the light and knocked Mercy with his body away to the shadows, where she rolled to coming to rest on her knees. She looked towards where Brynjolf was crawling from the light, his body smoldering, his flesh burned in several places.

Mercy moved quickly as she came to kneel beside Brynjolf. She clung to his hand and peered into his badly burned face. She could see the pain there even though he tried to smile at her.   
She rummaged through the pouch she carried looking for a healing potion and forced it to Brynjolf's lips.  
He drank it down, coughing at its thickness and then he looked in to Mercy's eyes.

“My brave lass, I knew you would be strong.”

Mercy sobbed, a flow of tears spilling from her eyes, left freely to run down her cheeks. She kissed Brynjolf’s forehead and told him that she loved him as he closed his eyes. Mercy sobbed loudly as she hunched over his body.

Mercer came to her side and lifted her to her feet gently, trying to turn her to face him.

“Mercy, we must go now if we are ever to finish this. He would want you to.”

Mercy spun around and struck out at Mercer. “It is your fault, you caused this! If you had not been so selfish and had stolen this damn Key,” she held it out in her hand, “then he would be well and I would not have been born to live to see this day. Take it; I want nothing more to do with it, or you!”

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Mercer stood by, his face hidden by shadow. Mercy could not see the pain that was there, on his face and it was a good thing for if she had, she would have known that now he felt he was surely lost. The one and only thing in this world, that had kept him to the path that he clung so precariously to, had now dismissed him from her life. The invisible knife she had thrust into his heart, had hurt him far more than any injury he had ever sustained in the past.

He knew Mercy was in pain, seeing what had befallen Brynjolf. He understood how she felt about the man that raised her, but she must understand there was more at stake.

Mercy stood still, staring at Mercer, tears rolling unchecked down her face, her lips drawn into a thin line. Her words had stung him she realized, but at this moment she did not care she tried to fool herself into believing. She could not lose Brynjolf, the man that she regarded as her father, and she knew that she did not want to lose Mercer either.

Inwardly, she struggled with wanting to offer an apology to Mercer, and she wondered if he would accept it and believe her words after she had spoken so harshly to him in the first place. She glanced at him as he stood there before her, his face void of expression.

“Mercer…” she began.

He raised one hand, cutting her off before she could continue. “We have to return the Key, Mercy.” He spoke, his voice flat and void of any emotion. “You do not want Brynjolf’s efforts to be in vain, do you?”

Mercy lowered her head, feeling as if she had been reprimanded.   
Memories of Brynjolf, doing the same thing to her as a child, flowed through her mind and she shook her head as a river of tears burned behind her eyes. She scrubbed at her face and cleared her throat. She could not let what he had attempted to do fall between the cracks of stones that lay at her feet to be forgotten in time. He was worth more than that to her.

Mercy straightened her shoulders and leveled her chin. “We will continue on, you are right, he would want me to.” Mercy fell to her knees and cradled Brynjolf tenderly in her arms. “I will not leave you here. I promise to return for you.”

Mercer touched her shoulder. “Then you must finish what we started and send Karliah to where she belongs. It is the only way.”

Mercy stood up, glancing at Mercer before she looked back down to where Brynjolf lay. “I will do this for him, because he is my father.”

Mercer winced as he moved away stiffly and waited for Mercy to follow.

 

~*~

 

They continued on, through the shadows and light, over the last of the daises, keeping a wary eye out for Karliah, in case she dared to confront them again.  
The silence between them was a great void than neither of them was about to cross, perhaps because they did not know how. Each was lost in their thoughts about what had transpired.  
It was Mercer, who broke the silence finally, when he raised one hand and pointed to the flight of stairs before them and spoke Mercy’s name.   
She followed his outstretched hand and looked to the stairs then nodded to Mercer.

Passing through the heavy iron doors, they followed along the corridor rounding corners, past empty burial beds and a chest and coming to face a statue of Nocturnal further in the corridor. As they approached her, they noticed at her feet a body of some bandit who had made it this far only to succumb to his injuries and lying beside him, an offering of gold coins and jewels untouched, waiting for the taking.

Mercer was surprised at how he had made it this far and wondered how he had died, as no apparent reason could be seen. Maybe it had been a slow acting poison, the ones that he knew Karliah like to use, but then he had the suspicion that he might not have made it this far alone. He dismissed the thought of more bandits as he turned to Mercy and nodded at the sconces on the pillars on either side of the statue of Nocturnal.

“On either side of those wall sconces are two chains. Pull the one on the left to extinguish the light and the way behind Nocturnal will open.”

Mercy moved to the left and found the chain and pulled on it, listening to the sound of grating stone as the passageway behind Nocturnal appeared, awaiting for them and in the darkness behind, Karliah waited for them.

 

~*~

 

Mercy followed a few paces behind Mercer, unaware of the shadow that clung to hers. It followed in each step, moving slowly so as not to alert them to her presence. Its anger boiled under the surface and its teeth clicked silently together as it stared with venomous eyes at the back of the one it intended to kill.  
Patience was a virtue and it was perhaps the only one that was left within Karliah. It had been a long time coming, the revenge she had sought against the one that had been responsible for her downfall. It was a shame that Gynni had not survived after giving birth to Mercy for nothing more would have made Karliah happier than to have killed her in front of Mercer and maybe even in front of Mercy.

Karliah wanted Mercer to suffer for the death of her other and her own and the best way to do that in her mind was to take what was most precious to him; his daughter. She stifled a laugh and pressed against the wall as Mercer and Mercy stopped ahead as the sound of approaching footsteps floated in their direction.

Mercer motioned as a figure appeared ahead, torch in hand moving away.  
It hesitated for a second then disappeared suddenly. A scream reached their ears then it grew silent.  
Mercer grew wary as he realized that they were not alone in the corridor. As they moved forward, they discovered another dead bandit, this time they discovered the cause of his fate. He had unfortunately set off a trap on the floor and had died not just from the poisonous darts that had impaled him, but he had run forward into the axes, stained with his blood, that still swung back and forth.

“Damn.” Mercer issued.

Mercy stood with her back to a large stone and she turned slightly when she felt a breeze against her skin. Her head turned slightly and she discovered a door in a recess behind the large stone.

“There is an entrance here Mercer, is this a way round?” She began to move towards it.

“Wait Mercy, let me go first.” Mercer spoke again.

He removed the Skeleton Key from the depths of his cloak and quickly picked the lock with ease, cautiously opening the door and peering around the edge of it. The first time he had come here, he had easily avoided the traps. There had been no need to use this way.  
Mercer moved into the passage before him and looked ahead to where a Sentinel stood waiting with its back to him. He turned to Mercy and pointed ahead at it.  
She nodded and slowly moved behind Mercer, keeping pace with him as they stealthily approached the unaware Sentinel.

Mercer crept behind the Sentinel and quickly dispatched it. As he turned he caught the glimpse of a second Sentinel pacing further in the chamber to his right. Mercy moved forward, her foot dislodging a small stone and in doing so she alerted it to their presence. The Sentinel rushed forward, bow raised and an Elven arrow was released, narrowly missing Mercy.  
She moved away to come to a wooden ledge that stood above a chamber below.

As Mercer sprang in the Sentinels direction, he did not notice the shadow that stood behind Mercy. It moved closer, one hand raised, a dagger catching the light as its arc swung in Mercy’s direction. The blade caught her shoulder, sinking deep within the flesh and she was propelled forward and fell down from the edge of the wooden ledge she stood on.

As her body made contact with the ground below, the dagger dislodged and blood sprayed on the dry dusty floor.  
Mercy grimaced in pain and her head swam in confusion. She could hear Mercer yelling at her but what it was he was saying she was not sure. Her hand came to her head, and it came away bloody.  
In her fall she had made contact with the ground with her head.

Mercer struggled in combat above her, with the Sentinel and he shouted repeatedly to Mercy to move as Karliah appeared, with a second dagger in hand.

Mercy, stunned from her fall, staggered forward towards the opposite side of the room and slowly made her way up the stairs in an effort to reach Mercer.

Karliah moved behind Mercy, up the stairs, seething at Mercy’s luck in having survived the dagger and the fall. Her arm swung back and forth wildly as she chased after Mercy.

The Sentinel, distracted by Mercy’s and Karliah's appearance, succumbed to Mercer’s sword and fell to the floor dissipating into a pool of blue plasma.

Mercer grabbed hold of Mercy and dragged her behind him as Karliah rushed forward as they made their way through the door and out into the corridors to another door and out of the chambers where behind them they could hear Karliah screaming. "I'll bury my blade in your heart, Frey!"

“Let me see your wound.” Mercer demanded of Mercy, as he moved closer to her.

She pushed his hand away as he tried to assess how badly she was injured. “I’m fine. It is nothing. We have to move before she comes for me.”

Mercer stepped back and nodded.

They moved towards the next set of iron doors that lead them to the inner sanctum and were greeted with a long wide corridor, lit by candles and a few sconces.  
As they approached through the corridor, they heard the scrapping of a foot and turned in time to see a bandit as he launched himself forward in their direction, arm outstretched and in his hand a dagger.

Mercy, though injured, managed to catch him before he sank his dagger into Mercer’s thigh.  
Mercer struck out at the bandit and in one swift motion, cutting his throat and sending him reeling back. The bandit fell to the ground, his eyes staring up at them as he gasped for breath then slowly, he fell over still as a statue.

Mercy winced as she looked from the bandit to Mercer.

"Thank you." Mercer offered to Mercy.

"You would and have done the same for me." She replied, wincing as she pressed a piece of linen to the wound in her shoulder.

Mercer moved forward and held his hand out and Mercer gave in to his request allowing him to assist.

 

~*~

 

They opened the great doors before them and passed into the passageway  awaiting them. Continuing on, they moved ahead until they came to the drop that would lead them to the Ebonmere and to where the Skeleton Key would be replaced.

As they moved closer to the edge, peering over the edge into the darkness, they did not see the shadow that had followed them.

Moving swiftly, under the cover of shadow, Karliah stole forward pressed against the wall and reached out one hand to swiftly grab Mercy by the collar.  
Karliah pulled Mercy back against her chest, the dagger coming up to Mercy’s throat, a thin line of red beading on the edge of the metal.

Mercer snapped around quickly, his blade inches from Karliah’s eye. “Thought you could sneak up on me, Karliah? I told you, you are no match for me. Now unhand her and let us settle this.”

Karliah laughed as she pressed the dagger harder against Mercy’s throat, a flow of blood now beginning to run faster along the edge of the blade, her hot breath against Mercy’s neck.

“Underestimating your position, are you not? I have the upper hand, Frey. Try me, I have nothing to lose, but you do. Nocturnal, guide my hand!”

Mercy leaned forward, her throat pressing dangerously hard against the edge of the blade, then quickly threw her head back against Karliah’s face, making contact with her and staggering her for a second.  
It was enough time for Mercer to thrust his blade forward into Karliah, but she had disappeared into the shadow.

Mercer grabbed Mercy and the two of them jumped into the darkness.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Mercer and Mercy fell through the darkness and landed with an unceremonious thump at the bottom of what appeared to Mercy to be a well. Tall stone walls, stretching far above out of sight, encircled her and at one side of the hard, dirt packed floor, she could see the remains of a skeleton and a decomposing body.  
In one outstretched bony hand, the skeleton clutched a note and Mercy bent to retrieve it, reading the scrawled message.

_“I can't believe it. I came all this way, solved all of those ridiculous riddles just to end up here! After I memorized Nystrom's clues he'd collected from Lythelus, I slit his throat. Now I guess the joke's on me, because I'm stuck here and I don't see a way out. Hope someone comes by soon, I'm getting hungry.”_

Mercy held the note out to Mercer who took it and scanned the contents. “Never ceases to amaze me the lengths people will go to for treasure. Word of caution to you, Mercy, let this not be your path or this too shall be your fate.”

Mercy nodded and watched as the stained parchment slipped from Mercer’s fingers to the ground.

“So, now what happens?” She inquired of Mercer.

“Wait.” Came the response.

Mercy leaned against the cool, smooth stones of the wall and waited with her arms folded over her chest.

Mercer removed the Skeleton Key from his cloak and held it out.  
He smiled at Mercy and then the well they were in begin to shimmer and change as the floor beneath their feet dropped out from underneath them.

They were now standing in a darkened room and in the center, before them, was a small raised dais on the floor surrounded by what looked like blue rock and around its edges looked to be ebony.  
In the center of the blue was a black lock and it was here that Mercer strode and bent with the Key in hand. He placed the Key into the lock and stepped back to come to stand beside Mercy. He took her hand in his and squeezed it.

This was indeed a strange place that they had come to and she pondered what was about to happen.  
She had not long to wait as the blue rock suddenly shifted, moving upwards and then disappearing leaving behind a darker blue pool of light, that glowed and moved with a life of its own.  
From the pool a flock of blackbirds suddenly appeared, cawing loudly, almost deafening and then she appeared; Nocturnal, mistress of the dark and night and luck.  
She hovered above the glowing Ebonmere and looked down at the two waiting for her.

“Ah, Mercer Frey, so you have returned, have you? And with the Skeleton Key, I see now all is as it should be and you shall have your final reward.”

“You owe me more than what you have offered me Nocturnal, my servitude has been long and not without loss. Karliah is still present and just as dangerous as she ever was.” Mercer spat out.

Mercy stepped forward, hesitantly. “And we lost Brynjolf. His sacrifice in the attempt to return to you your Key is not fair.”

Nocturnal laughed and the blackbirds echoed her sentiment as they flew around Mercy cawing, their feathers gently touching her face.

“Oh, little one, you are so brave and yes, you have sacrificed so much. But you are wrong, Brynjolf is not lost. As for Karliah, what shall I do with her? I could let her go on challenging you or I could send her somewhere where she would not be able to harm you. Choices, choices, now what will you offer me for that? I do not do favors for no recompense.”

Mercy was startled by her words; did she say that Brynjolf was not lost? What did she mean by that?

Mercer stepped forward. “Have we not given enough for one small favour?”

Again, came the laughter as Nocturnal hovered before them. She paused for a moment then drew closer to Mercer.

“Mercer, what do you have to offer me that I have not already taken? If anyone has something to offer, it is Mercy, not you.”

Mercy stepped closer to Nocturnal, the question about Brynjolf burning in her mind. “I already offered my servitude to you, Nocturnal, all the days off my life, now all I ask is, in return, is for Karliah to be banished from this world, to a place where she can no longer harm anyone I love. If there is anything else I can do to serve you, I swear on my life, I will.”

Mercy spoke quickly, not sure if she had just sealed herself to a fate far worse than what she had seen so far.

Mercer touched her arm and shook his head, but the words had been spoken, it was too late.

Nocturnal sighed. “It still does not seem enough, but then again, servitude is servitude. I will decide on what it is that I require of you Mercy later. Now, I have the two of you, and for that fact, I have all three of you.”

From the shadows behind them, Brynjolf appeared.

Mercy turned at the familiar sound of his step and let go of Mercer’s hand and quickly fell into the outstretched arms of Brynjolf. They clung to each other, shaking with elation at their reunion.

“I thought you were gone and I would never see you again.” Mercy spoke muffled from his chest.

“Ah lass, it will take more than that wee fight to end me. Now shh, we have a contract to hammer out with Nocturnal.”

“I will take the original deal you offered of servitude, from all three of you and I will send Karliah forth from this realm into one of mine own choosing, where she will not be able to harm you or anyone you love. You have shown great promise as a Nightingale, Mercy and I look forward to the day when you shall join me. Know this, when I call, you will answer me and will do my bidding.”

From out of the depths of darkness, Karliah appeared, bound by what appeared to be vines and thorns and she was surrounded by the blackbirds.  
She lowered her head as she stood before Nocturnal, realizing her defeat was imminent. Her eyes flicked momentarily in the direction of Mercy and Mercer then over to Brynjolf who stood by, his hand on his dagger, watching and waiting for Nocturnal’s utterance of sentence.

“Karliah, I am disappointed. You once served me and I thought you had promise, but I was mistaken and I do not like to be mistaken. You shall serve out your remaining time in a place where you will never be allowed to cause harm to anyone ever again. Your punishment fits your crime and your time there will be unendurable.”

Karliah's eyes returned to focus on Mercy. “I will find a way to kill you, Mercy, and I will kill all of those you love. This will not be the end of me.” Karliah hissed at her.

With a wave of her hand, Nocturnal opened a dark portal behind her and Karliah disappeared, her screams drowned out by the sound of the blackbirds cawing, as she left, in a puff of blue smoke.

“Well now,” Nocturnal focused her attention on the three remaining figures, “I think I might change our deal and make the numbers that serve me larger.”

Brynjolf huffed and moved forward angrily. “Figures, you daedra would not keep your word and would cheat us at any moment.”

“No, Brynjolf,” Nocturnal laughed, “that is where you are wrong.” Nocturnal pointed to behind Mercy and Mercer as a figure cloaked in grey appeared.

“Mercer?” The figure inquired. “Is that you?”

Mercer turned at the sound of the voice, his face forming into a frown as he gazed at the cloaked figure. It could not be, could it?

“Gynni-is it you?” He returned to the figure.

“Mercer!” The figure rushed forward into his arms and they embraced tenderly for a moment.

Brynjolf moved closer doubting what he was seeing. How was this possible? Was this some kind of trick to distract them? He took hold of Mercy’s hand lest she disappear or something worse.

“Mother? Is that my mother?” Mercy shakily asked of him.

The figure turned as it raised hands and slowly lowered the hood of the cloak to reveal a face that Brynjolf knew very well.  
She looked the same as she had, when she had died, that day after giving birth to Mercy and now, here she was meeting her daughter, again.  
The similarities between mother and daughter were astounding, now that they were standing beside each other.

“It is me, Mercy.”

Mercy looked at her mother, tears welling up in her eyes. She stepped forward awkwardly at first then she moved quickly forward and wrapped her arms around her mother and clung to her.  
Her eyes moved to Mercer and he drew near.

Brynjolf stood by silently, wiping at a tear at the corner of his eye.

Gynni looked over to where Brynjolf stood and she moved towards him. Raising one hand to his cheek she stroked it gently, gazing into his face, then she stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on the cheek she had stroked.

“Thank you for all that you have done, Bryn. She is beautiful.”

He took her hand in his and held it to his chest and smiled down at her.

“It is time, Gynni.” Nocturnal spoke as blackbirds flew to encircle Gynni.

“What is happening?” inquired Mercy. “What are you doing to her?”

Gynni moved towards Mercer, taking his arm and moved to the center of the room, closer to Nocturnal. “I made a deal with Nocturnal, a long time ago and now it is time for it to come to fruition.”

Brynjolf held to Mercy as she tried to move forward to stand beside her mother.

“What deal Gynni? What have you done?” He asked his voice filling with fear.

Gynni shook her head. “No, Brynjolf, it is nothing like that. Mercer and I will be together and we will serve Nocturnal. Before I returned to Riften, before I gave birth to Mercy, I contracted a deal with Nocturnal that you did not know of. I offered my service to her and have been serving her since my death. I am a Nightingale and now Mercer and I will be together.”

Mercer shook his head as he stroked Gynni’s face. “Always thinking ahead are you not, my love.”

“We will be together, Mercer, as we should have been.” She returned, looking up into his face. “Karliah robbed us of our happiness, but we shall have it now.”

Mercy sobbed, looking between Mercer and Gynni. “You can’t leave me, I just found you.”

“You must be strong, Mercy, I know this is hard, but remember, we are not of your world and we cannot stay. It is time for us to return to where we belong. Know this; we will be close at hand, always. You have grown into a woman that we are proud to call our daughter. We love you.” Mercer smiled at his daughter, wishing her to brave now.

Mercy fell to her knees as Mercer and Gynni disappeared from sight behind a wave of blackbirds that lead them into the blue pool of light at the feet of Nocturnal.

“NO! it is not fair." Mercy screamed. "I just found them and now I lose them? This is madness! I want no part of this.”

Nocturnal sighed. “It is hard when they leave, isn’t it?”

Brynjolf grimaced. “What would you know of that? You’re a daedra, what do you know of our feelings? You make deals that are to your benefit and those that make them with you, be damned.”

“Careful Brynjolf, lest you forget, you too serve me.”

“Serve you? I am no one’s slave. I think I have served you long enough.” Brynjolf moved towards Nocturnal, his ire rising.

“Brynjolf, no, please don’t.” Mercy called to him, afraid of what might happen.

“What then do you wish, Brynjolf? Shall I return you to how I found you? What would Mercy then do without you to guide her?”

Brynjolf stopped in his tracks. “What did you do to me?”

Nocturnal laughed as the blackbirds cawed and encircled Brynjolf. “Why Brynjolf, I returned you from the dead.”

Brynjolf’s mouth opened and his brows grew close together as he frowned. He had not been dead, just injured, or had he been? If that was true, then what was he now? Was he like Mercer and Gynni and Karliah? Caught between worlds and only here in this one for a short time? He turned to look at Mercy, his throat constricting as he searched her face and saw the fear forming there as her eyes widened in realization of what Nocturnal had said.

“You died, Brynjolf. You were dead when we left you, Mercer and I. I was sure of it.” Mercy’s words caught in her throat and she hitched a few times at the prospect of losing him all over again.

Brynjolf stepped forward and took her by the shoulders, then pulled her close to his chest, his chin resting on top of her head. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes, listening to her heart beat and straining to find his own in the silence that stood around them.

“What is it that you require of me?” He asked finally, knowing that Nocturnal had won.

“Just for your servitude, and Mercy's, when I deem it necessary, nothing more, nothing less, Brynjolf. You and Mercy are free now to go back to your life in Riften and the Guild. I am sure the others will be happy to see you. Enjoy your time together, live the life of a thief, fulfill your dreams of riches.”

Nocturnal floated above the pulsing blue pool then she and the blackbirds disappeared from sight.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Shadows moved within shadows across a landscape of jagged edges and chasms that held no end. Light shifted across an ever-changing ground that heaved and sagged and seem to have a life of its own. Sounds of screams and moans filled with pain, shattered the air that hung with a heaviness saturated with a thick blanket of mist, which smelt of a sharp tangy coppery odor. Nothing grew here, no vegetation, no life.   
Those that were condemned, to spend their eternity here, eventually succumbed to passing and dissipated, leaving behind a shell of their former self. No memory, no nuance remained of them, just an empty husk that stood, forever.   
They were the ones forgotten forever, in this foul place, which was their sentence for the deeds and betrayals they had committed against those that had sent them here.

In a darkened corner, near a portal that opened for the briefer of a second, a figure appeared, bound by bonds of vines. As they stepped forward out of the portal, the vines disintegrated, leaving the figure finally free to move about, unfettered by their bonds.

Their face was filled with hatred, their heart stood still in their chest, long ago stopped by those that they wished to trade places with now.   
Laughter rang out from the figure, loud and clear and there was none to hear it. The desire for revenge was strong and soon, soon they would acquire what they needed to fulfill that desire.  
It was foolish of the one that had sent them here to do just that.   
Predictable was what they had become.   
It could not have been more foreseen than if the figure themselves had planned this right from the very start and perhaps, by some chance, they might have just done that; weaving, from the very start, tiny seeds, that eventually influenced this very outcome.

Head held high, all the while their mind calculating and weighing the odds of what they must do, they moved forward searching.

This place they had been sent to was known to them. A story whispered quietly and passed on by a few that remained of an old world. Information had been acquired by brokering deals, that would leave even the strongest of those, shuddering in fear of what was taken and offered. Clues shrouded within clues were studied for many long years until finally, the tiny grain of truth stood.

‘Knowledge is power’, those who knew the truth said, and with that knowledge, came the ability to control and to change that which had been passed.   
The only catch was to find the object that they sought and then, then nothing could stop them, from leaving.

Confident in that knowledge, the figure moved searching for the object. How long the figure searched could not be measured as time did not exist here. It could have been hours, it could have been days, but the figure did not care. If it took all of an eternity or more to discover the secret that was here, then so be it. It would be worth it when the end finally came.

Just ahead of the figure, rising from the heaving ground, the final destination was thought to have been reached.   
Hideous husks, of those that had gone onto nothingness, interspersed between twisted and gnarled tree-like statues, stood as quiet sentinels in a circle, watching over the object.   
It pulsated slowly, sitting on its dais, its life force low and as the figure approached, it became erratic in its pulsing and it sent out a tendril to latch onto the figure drawing it close.

Tendril and figure became one for some time, and the figure did not fight against its new bonds.

Realizing that there was no life force to drain, the object removed the tendril and returned to its previous state and continued to pulse slowly.

The figure smiled as it picked up the object-a glowing orb that’s surface moved in every direction-causing the one to gaze upon it, feel as if they were falling into it, draw it close to its chest and then in a shimmering moment, both figure and orb disappeared.


	20. Chapter 20

Brynjolf stared at the three darkened portals that surrounded the chamber that they stood in. He shook his head at the thought of them being stuck here now.

Mercy studied the strange discs on the floor, before each of the darkened portals; each bore a different symbol; the first disc-a full moon, the second-a half-moon and on the third disc-a crescent moon.

“What do you think they mean? Or do you think they are just for decoration?” Mercy inquired.

Brynjolf rubbed at his stubbly chin and snorted. “With Nocturnal lass, I am sure there is a reason for them, but of course she is not going to tell us now, is she? Let’s find out for ourselves, shall we.?”

Brynjolf nodded and stepped onto the half-moon disc. Nothing happened. He waited for a few moments and nodded to Mercy to try one of the remaining two.

Mercy hesitated for a second and chose the crescent moon. She closed her eyes as she stepped onto it waiting for something to happen; nothing apparently did for her either.

“Well so much for that then, shall go through this doorway here and see where we end up?” Mercy pointed at the one before her as Brynjolf moved over to join her on the disc she stood on.

Brynjolf nodded and the two Nightingales stepped through the doorway together.

 

~*~

 

With a whoosh of sound, the two appeared back at the start of their journey through the Twilight Sepulcher, standing before the staircase. The gaping dark maw that had waited for them atop of the steps had now been changed to a shimmering blue portal.

Brynjolf pointed to it. “Think it leads us back to where we just came from?”

Mercy thought on it for a second and ran up the stairs disappearing from sight before Brynjolf had the chance to stop her.  
A second later, she returned, standing behind him with a big smile upon her face. “Exactly where you said it would lead to.” She said.

“That was dangerous Mercy, you could have gone anywhere.” Brynjolf folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at her. “Well that being that, I think we should return to Riften and assess what has happened since our departure.” He tried to say with a straight face as a giggle erupted from Mercy’s mouth. Brynjolf shook his head and rolled his eyes.

The two moved towards the door out and stopped one last time to look back at the chamber they had stood in. With a curt nod to each other they stepped out through the door and into the night.

 

~*~

 

Upon entering Riften, through the familiar front gate, past the guard that stared at them, as if they were ghosts; they found that nothing had really changed.

They made their way straight to the secret entrance of the Thieves Guild and descended the stairs noticing that the grating sound of the sarcophagi was absent. Finally, someone had fixed it.

Mercy climbed down the ladder and into the Cistern and was warmly greeted by the fellow members of the Guild. As Brynjolf appeared behind her, Delvin stepped forward, his face aglow with anticipation to discover what had happened.

The two men, heads together discussing business, walked towards the Ragged Flagon.

Mercy stole to her bed and sat upon it. She looked around the Cistern and smiled. It was nice to be home, but her heart clenched and she thought of her mother. Seeing her for the brief time she did opened a flood gate of feelings that left her visibly shaken.

Now that Mercer was gone too, she felt sad and very alone. Aye, she had Brynjolf and the rest of the Guild, but now, now it was not the same.

Mercy lay back across her bed and focused on the ceiling above her. Her thoughts returned to Riften and those that were here that she cared for and cared for her in return and she immediately thought of her friend, Marcurio.

Marcurio would want to hear all of the details of her adventures and as she thought about him, she acknowledged that she had missed the apprentice mage more than she thought she would have.

Standing, she adjusted her Nightingale armor, wondering if she required it now that she was home and as if it understood, it slowly began to move from her body. No longer required, it floated down and into her chest at the side of her bed.  
Mercy retrieved a simple dress and then added a dagger at her hip as an afterthought. Tying her hair into a ponytail, she patted her hips and left to the Bee and Barb.

 

~*~

 

Marcurio sat with a look of awe on his face as Mercy told him of her tale. He kept still, not moving a muscle or even speaking, which for him personally was a record.

As Mercy finished up, he swallowed and stared at the young girl before him. No, he thought, that was wrong. She was not a young girl anymore, she was a grown woman and for the first time he really looked at her. He had been her friend from since they were young and he had never really felt like she thought of him as anything other than a friend.  
Marcurio suddenly was hit, with the feeling, that he too had missed her, more than he might want to admit to himself or her for that fact. He smiled inwardly and wondered what Brynjolf would think about that.

As he sat beside her he wondered when and if he should broach the subject of their budding relationship, but he did not have to wait long when suddenly Mercy leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“I missed you, you know. I wish you had been with me, but I would have feared for you.”

Marcurio colored slightly then looked down at his hands. He reached out one and took one of Mercy’s in his and nodded.

“I am glad that you have returned, Mercy.” He spoke softly to her. “I missed you, more than you know.”

They sat like that for some time, holding hands and enjoying each others company until Mercy thought it might be best to return to the Guild before Brynjolf came looking for her.  
She told Marcurio that she planned to tell Brynjolf that she and Marcurio wanted to be together and she would not under any circumstances, let him stop them.

She stood and kissed Marcurio’s cheek one more time and smiled at him. “I will see you later.”

Marcurio nodded and went to stand. “I could come with you, if you want help.”

Mercy shook her head as she held to Marcurio. “I think it would be better if I do this alone, besides, you know how he can be. I won’t be long, then maybe we can go for a walk by the lake.”

“So you think you can make it on your own then. We'll see about that.” He said mischievously. Marcurio smiled adding, “Don't make me wait too long. I get bored very easily,” he gently brushed Mercy’s cheek and watched as she walked out through the doors of the Bee and Barb.

 

 

~*~

 

With her head down, she walked along, humming some tune she heard in some inn. Her heart was filled with emotion and she had to admit that she was both happy and sad at the same time.

As she passed by the edge of Black-Briar Manor, she thought that maybe telling Brynjolf would have been easier if Marcurio had been with her. She stopped in the shadows beside the manor and contemplated her choices. She decided against inviting Marcurio and she continued walking towards the entrance to the Cistern.

It was dusk and the torch bugs and luna moths had appeared and were darting to and fro. A slight warm breeze blew across the back of Mercy’s neck and she sighed.  
All was right in her world, she could not have asked for anything more.

As she approached the tiny graveyard, she stopped and looked at the two stone markers that were a reminder of Mercer and Gynni.

She bent to pick two Nightshade flowers and carefully lay them on their graves, knowing that they existed in another place together, at last. They had found their happiness as she now had.

Mercy stood drinking in the night air and then she felt the air suddenly go very cold. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She whirled around sensing that someone was behind her and found no one there.

“Just my imagination.” She spoke out loud, as she stepped in front of the mausoleum.

It was then that the shadows around her moved and she felt them as if they were clutching her.  
Mercy heard a hiss and as she turned around, Karliah lunged out from the darkness, hands outstretched and violet eyes blazing as she hissed. “Your fate is sealed!”

Mercy screamed as Karliah seized her, struggling desperately to fight her off, but Karliah was strong and overpowered her sending Mercy to her knees. With one quick slash and thrust, Karliah sank her dagger into Mercy’s neck and watched as she fell over, her blood slowly ebbing towards the path beside the little patch of Nightshade flowers that grew beside her parent’s grave.

Mercy struggled to stand, to get away from Karliah, but she was too badly injured. She crawled on her belly towards the mouth of the mausoleum hoping that if she made it there that someone would hear her pleas for help.

Karliah appeared in front of her, holding a glowing orb in her hands. As Karliah raised it above her head, a dark tendril snaked forward and latched onto Mercy above her heart. The ensuing pain that Mercy felt was unbelievable.

“I send you to your rest.” Karliah spoke over Mercy, her eyes glowing amethyst in the evening’s light. "You were never a match for a true Nightingale."

Mercy stared at Karliah, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to speak.

Her mind drifted over what this meant and she was terrified for Brynjolf and what this would mean to him. Her thoughts then went to Marcurio and she blinked back the tears that appeared.

The sound of the sarcophagi opening alerted Karliah she was about to be found. She bent quickly to Mercy and smiled at her, her amethyst eyes changing color then, she laughed and disappeared.

Brynjolf appeared at the mouth of the secret entrance and he hesitated, for the slightest moment, when he saw the body. No, it could not be, he thought.

He ran forward and dropped to the ground beside Mercy, ignoring the blood that soaked his clothes, he pulled her into his arms.

“No, no, no lass, not like this.” He cried out, then he yelled for help.

Sapphire appeared, followed by Rune and they rushed to aid Brynjolf.

Smiling weakly, Mercy grasped feebly at Brynjolf and tried to tell him that it was okay, that she was not afraid, but the words would not come.

She looked around at the people that surrounded her and watched as they grew fuzzy and finally with her last breath, she smiled and drifted away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                        Epilogue

 

 

Somewhere in the darkness, the orb went suddenly black and Karliah laid it down. She turned and watched as the shadows crept towards her and she raised one hand as they approached.

Karliah smiled and stood silent, drinking in the sight before her.Then,slowly she stepped forward and walked across the black shimmering water to the tiny island that called to her.

As she stood on ground that appeared to be crimson, she looked up at the one that sat there.

He sat on his throne, of bone and blood, of jewels and gold and he nodded. “Very well, I have given what it was that you so desired; now you will do as I bid.”

Karliah nodded as if in trance and she knelt before the throne. “I am yours to command, my lord.”

“Ah, that you may be, but I still sense in you a tiny flicker of willingness to defy me, and I cannot have that, can I?”

With the flick of one finger, Karliah was torn in half and flung to the corner where others, such as she laid that had tried and failed to cheat the lord of his prize.

He stood and folded his hands together behind his back and walked forward, peering at the black water that shimmered, surrounding the island he was bound to.

“One day, I will be free and then I will return to wreak havoc on the world, as I see fit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was time for this tale to come to an end and to be honest, it was a pretty rough tale this round for me to write.  
> I hate endings, just like I hate goodbyes. They are always so messy and they seem never to go off how you want them to; but alas that is maybe a story for another time.  
> I hope those of you that became vested in Mercy can forgive me. She, I am sure, is fine and perhaps she is even with Mercer and Gynni.  
> As for poor Brynjolf, well he is still there, at the Guild and he will over time, be alright. He is like a cat that seems to always land on his feet.  
> Most of the time.  
> Who knows, maybe he will show up in some other tale, like the bad penny he often can be.  
> Thanks to you my readers. sunny:)


End file.
